


Companion

by Iocane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, M/M, More tags added as chapters are added, Mutual Pining, Pre-Revolution, Slow Burn, cole is alive, cole's mother is dead, connor has a different origin story, mention and discussion of depression, mention and discussion of suicide, not all tags apply yet, references to heavy drinking, revolution adjacent, timeline doesn't match up to the game exactly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-09-28 08:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17179265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: Cole Anderson's father is lonely, and his birthday is coming up.  On a bargain basement android site, he finds a solution.Connor was the entirety of a failed pilot program for detective-qualified androids, initially offered to the Chicago PD, and eventually resold several times, winding up in Detroit.Hank Anderson loves his son, and has no clue what he's going to do about the unreasonably compelling android that he won't let himself feel for.





	1. Chapter 1

Cole Anderson crept out of his bedroom and down the hall into the kitchen, where his dad's wallet was. He'd left it there after getting out the money to pay for their pizza. Thankfully it meant Cole didn't have to sneak into his dad's room for it. Not that he was likely to wake him up, evidenced by the six pack of empty beer bottles sitting beside the recycling bin.

With all the stealth a ten year old could muster, he fished through his dad's wallet, past too many photos of himself, lingering at one of his mom for a moment. Then he found what he was looking for, a credit card with Cole Anderson in faded silver lettering below a bunch of numbers. He was allowed to use it whenever he asked, but he didn't want his dad to know about this purchase.

Prize in hand, he crept back down the hallway and into his room, pushing the door closed behind him. Giddy with his success, he flopped onto his bed and grabbed his tablet. 2ndhandroids.com was still up, but he'd been sent back to the start page due to inactivity.

Scowling, he tried to remember the path he'd taken to get the model he'd settled on.  **Used** was a given, he had some money but not oodles. On the side he tried to remember the options he'd picked. He didn't need a  **Nurse** , his dad was old but not  _ that  _ old. He didn't need  **Childcare** either, since Cole himself was practically a grownup. Almost. Then he remembered, Misc, whatever that meant. 

The  **Male** filter he recalled easily, having a woman would remind him of his mom. Finally he tapped  **Sort by Price - Descending** . Then he tapped on  **Sort by Price - Ascending** .

There he was, the cheapest option. **Obsolete** in stark red letters, 'out of date,' Cole remembered looking it up. 'Designed to interface harmoniously with humans' sounded to Cole like 'made friends easily' which is what his dad needed. The fact that it had been a police model was even better, his dad was a police Lieutenant, they'd have plenty to talk about! And finally, the bit that made it worth it - the $7,600 price tag was crossed out and replaced with a $4,500 and a blinking red **BLOWOUT** under it. 

Cole had about $6,000 in accumulated birthday and christmas gifts, chore money, allowances, including $4,000 his grandmother had left him. All piled carefully into an account his father set up so Cole could 'learn the value of a dollar.' He also got to feel like a grownup when he brandished the card at McDonalds to take his dad out to lunch on those rare occasions when he and his dad had a whole day together.

After carefully entering his card information, twice because he misread one of the letters, Cole looked over the shipping options. He could pay an extra few hundred to have it here by tomorrow, Tuesday. His dad's birthday was Friday, that would give him time to tell the android about his dad before giving it to him. Schedule arrival, Cole picked 4:00 pm. On his earliest days his dad didn't get home before 5, and Cole got off the bus at 3.30.

Cole finally tapped  **Finalize Purchase** and wiggled in anticipation as the hourglass flipped and flipped. Finally the big black  **THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE!** page came up and Cole gave a muffled squeal of victory.

His dad was gonna be so happy with his birthday present!! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor arrives at the home of his new owners.
> 
> Cole is absolutely thrilled!
> 
> Things don't go entirely to plan, however.

Connor looked around, double checking the address as the taxi headed back into the city. His new owner had paid for expedited delivery, and since the handler at the shop had wished to leave early, Connor was able to arrive forty five minutes ahead of schedule.

He approached the address, seeing no car, and no indication anyone was home. Pushing the doorbell likewise resulted in nothing. A second attempt earned him a muffled bark, and peering through the window, he saw a large dog sitting on a dog bed. When no further sounds disturbed it, the Saint Bernard set its large head back on folded paws.

Connor confirmed the address once again, via both the wooden numbers nailed to one side of the door, and the mail in the metal box below the numbers. Three bills addressed to a Hank Anderson, what looked like junk mail to a Henry Anderson, but nothing with the name of his new owner. A husband perhaps? Connor was aware some couples kept everything in the name of the more dominant or financially successful partner. Why wasn't his purchase made under Hank or Henry Anderson, then?

Walking around the house was more helpful. In the back was a somewhat rusty but sturdy looking child's swing set, a child's bike, and a dog house. There was a child involved, which explained the need for an android. Perhaps the child was Cole? But a child wouldn't have the funds or permission to obtain an android, though there was no legal bar to them doing so.

Curiouser and curiouser, he recalled the phrase from a book he'd been allowed to read at his previous ... posting. Returning to the front of the house, he sat on the porch swing, figuring someone would arrive and he would have more information then. Short of breaking into the house, he had no way of obtaining anything further at the moment.

"You're early!" came the cry of a young boy. Connor stood and turned, seeing him run towards the house. "I just got off the bus! Why are you early?" The boy seemed a mixture of distressed and excited. 

"I'm Connor, the android sent by SecondHandroids dot Com. I need to speak to Cole Anderson." Connor watched the boy climb up the steps and fish a key out of his shirt where it hung on a chain around his neck.

"That's me, come on, I gotta get you inside before anyone sees!" The boy tried to unlock the door but in his excitement kept not making it fit. "Can you do it?" Cole asked, pulling the chain over his head and handing the key over.

"Of course." Connor slid the key easily into place and unlocked the door.

Cole darted inside. "Sumo, come here, wanna go outside, boy?" 

Connor took the initiative to step inside and close the door, holding the key in his hand as he watched the boy lead the dog - which had to weigh more than twice what he did - into the back yard.

Once the dog was seen to, the boy took Connor's hand and dragged him into the back of the house into what was clearly his bedroom. "Oh man this is so neat!" Cole pushed the door closed and looked Connor over. "You're here! You're really here!" 

"The handler at the android depot wished to depart early, and since I was his last delivery, and a local one, he sent me here ahead of schedule. I apologize if that poses any difficulties." Connor hadn't been able to see the rest of the house very well, but he at least had an idea of what would be asked of him. Though why it was the child registered as his owner was a mystery.

"That's fine! I just ... wow!" Cole walked around him once more before standing in front of Connor. "You're taller than I thought you'd be, almost as tall as Dad!"

"Your father is Hank or Henry Anderson?" Connor speculated and the boy nodded.

"Yeah! Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the Detroit Police Department." Cole puffed his chest out with obvious pride and Connor smiled slightly. As he watched, the boy crawled onto the bed to grab a picture from the shelf built into the headboard. "This is him!" 

Connor approached, taking the picture and sitting when the boy patted the bed. A middle aged man, grey hair that hung down over his ears, and a beard that was shaggy but not long. Connor's mouth was open to ask what the situation here was when he heard a shout from the front of the house.

"COLE!!" A loud, deep voice bellowed. "Cole are you in here?!"

"Oh crap! Uhm, stay here!" Cole hopped off the bed and scrambled out of the room, pulling the door closed.

Ordered to stay put, Connor couldn't follow. The curiosity innate in his programming allowed him to increase the potency of his hearing.

"Cole, what the hell? I got a call at work, Mrs. Murphy across the way saw some android skulking around outside the house, looking in the windows. Are you okay?" The concern in the father's voice was evident, as was the anger. Whether it was at being called away from his job, or at the potential intruder, Connor didn't know enough to surmise. 

"I'm fine, Dad! I didn't see any intruder, I just got home a few minutes ago." Connor noticed the careful choice of words 'intruder,' not 'android.' "It's okay, you can go back to work now!" 

When the father spoke again, his voice was quieter, more tired than it had been, as if the concern and anger had used up most of his reserves. "It's okay, Cole. I was just worried. If anything happened to you-"

There was silence for a moment, and the boy's words were slightly muffled "It's okay, Dad. Nothing happened to me, everything's fine! I promise!"

"Good. I'm glad. You know I love you, right, Cole?" the father asked, and the slight shift in his voice indicated to Connor he'd knelt, putting himself at eye level with his son.

"I know, Dad. I love you too." Cole's voice had grown quiet, more tender. "I'm sorry you had to leave work."

"It's fine, kid. You're worth a half a day any time." Connor smiled a little when he realized the wet sound was a kiss, probably to the boy's forehead, a surmise followed out by a giggle and a protestation of 'Dad! Gross!'

"Half day? So ... you're not going back to work?" The boy now sounded suspicious and a little worried.

"Nope. When I told Jeff, he told me to take the rest of the day. So, what do you wanna do?" 

"Uhhm-" Connor could almost see the panic on the boy's face and found himself curious as to the outcome, and surprised his own presence hadn't yet been revealed. "I ... think I have a lotta homework buuut let me go check!" 

The patter of feet grew louder and then the door flew open, and closed just as quickly. "I was gonna tell you about my dad until he got home but he's home  _ already _ , and now he wants to do stuff but I can't tell him about you yet."

"Why not?" Connor asked and Cole made a hissing shush noise.

"Quiet! Because you're for his birthday, and that's not till Friday!"

Before either of them could say anything further, a shrill sound came from the front of the house, as well as the phone beside Cole's bed. "I GOT IT!" Cole shouted, rushing for the bed but Connor could hear Lieutenant Anderson answer first.

"Anderson Residence. Uh-huh. SecondHandroids? Delivery at four, huh? Can I get the name on that receipt?" With every word, Connor could hear the man's voice getting colder and colder, while Cole's eyes were getting wider and wider. 

"DAD! I CAN EXPLAIN!" Cole didn't even bother closing the door as he rushed out.

The Lieutenant bypassed his son to look into the boy's room, taking one look at Connor, taking in the LED, the glowing armband and patch on his jacket. "Where did you even get the money for that thing young man?" 

"Gramma Jan, and I've been saving. Dad, I got him for you, for your birthday." He stepped around his dad and into the room, taking Connor's hand and pulling him to his feet. Cole sounded quiet, sad, and hopeful.

"Cole, that's- you can't- We don't need an android."

"Not we! You! You need a friend, Dad. I know you're lonely, you miss mom-"

Connor didn't miss the pain that crossed the man's features at the mention of the boy's mother.

"-and you work a lot, and you're too tired to make friends so I got you one! He used to be a police android so you can talk about work!"

"I need a drink," Cole's father growled and strode down the hall. Still holding Connor's hand, Cole followed after.

"I didn't want you to find out until I had time to tell him about you, so you could be better friends."

Even behind the anger and sadness, Connor could see the love and care in Cole's father's eyes as he looked down at his son. "You've got a lotta heart, kid." He reached out, ruffling Cole's hair even as he finished a beer in a handful of swallows. He lifted his gaze, "Catch!" He tossed the bottle at Connor. 

Whether deliberately or through poor aim, the bottle was arced to sail over Connor's shoulder, but he caught it easily. He hadn't been ordered, but he had enough experience and learning capacity to take the bottle to the recycling bin and drop it inside, noting that it was already nearly full of the same, with a few soda cans.

"Okay, look," the Lieutenant said after watching Connor for a moment. "I'm gonna have to look into this. For one thing, that fuc-that site should not be selling androids to  **children** ." A weathered hand pushed through grey hair, and his gaze settled on Cole. "But I've got a half a day, and that doesn't come along very often. So what's say you and I go do something? Just us," he specified, with a meaningful look at Connor, who returned it blandly with a slight tip of his head.

Cole looked between Connor and his father before nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Aw fu-It's okay, Cole," he said honestly. "We'll ... figure something out. Go get outta your school clothes." Cole cast a glance at Connor before darting down the hall.

"You even got a name?" Lieutenant Anderson growled at him, twisting open another beer.

"I was originally registered as Connor, and it hasn't been changed by subsequent owners. Your son may do so if he wishes." 

"Let's get one thing straight, he might have done all this behind my back, but  **I'm** the one in charge. Understand?"

"Got it."

"What the hell kind are you anyway? Don't look like any of the household models I've seen."

Connor declined to point out that Cole had already told him. "I was a prototype, designed to be a detective in the police force."

"What happened?" Finishing his beer, the Lieutenant tossed the bottle at Connor again, this one low and to his other side. After catching it, Connor noticed the speculative look in his gaze.

"I was never told the specifications, only that after three days no one in the department would work with me following my first assignment with the Chicago Police Department."

"I'm ready!" Cole appeared in the kitchen again and Connor turned to dispose of the beer. "Should I let Sumo in?" he asked, shrugging on a jacket.

"Nah. Connor can do it. Let him in in half an hour." Cole's father turned and went to the front door. Cole gave him an eager thumbs up, apparently thinking the order was a mark of success.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do, Lieutenant?" He thought perhaps using the man's professional rank might appeal to him.

"Ah, fu-uhhm," Connor noticed Cole's suppressed smile at his father's almost-swear. "Just ... clean up, I guess. I'm not gonna come home and find half the house in the garbage am I?"

"Dad! He was a cop he's not stupid!" He tugged his father's sleeve, clearly keen to get going.

"Fine, fine! Don't leave the house!" was the last instruction before Cole dragged him off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to see Hank's side of things!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dana for a beta!! Mwah!

Hank let out a bark of laughter at the look on his friend's face. Making shameless use of his rank, Jeff had gotten him a two hour block in the middle of Friday for a birthday lunch.

"An android?" Jeff said, finally getting his shock under control. "Cole - little ten year old Cole - got you an android?"

"And I can't return it. As in they won't let me, and, god, Jeff he was so proud of himself." Hank took a sip of whiskey, savoring the more expensive vintage than what he usually drank. "If Connor turns up missing it'll break his heart, so yeah, I have an android now," He straightened up and gave his glass a wiggle, pinkie sticking up in a mocking imitation of poshness.

"What does it even do all day? Not like Cole needs diapers or anything?"

"I'll tell you something, I do like that there's- that Cole isn't gonna be alone for hours when I'm working. I won't have to call around, see who can fit him in for dinner when I can't be there." Hank sighed, cutting himself another bite of steak.

"Well that's good, at least," Jeff agreed. "We don't really get to talk much outside work, but how're  **you** doing, Hank?"

Hank sighed. It had been three years since Irene's death. "It's still rough sometimes. Finally used to sleeping alone." He didn't mention he only managed to sleep because he was half drunk. "I worry how it is for Cole. He seems ... scary well adjusted to not having a mom. Of course, he just bought me an android because he thought I was lonely, and too busy to make friends." Hank shook his head.

"Is he wrong?" Jeff fixed him with a firm, knowing look.

"Got you, don't I?" Hank asked with a grin he didn't really feel.

"I don't count, we met at the academy before half my staff was even born."

"Oh, thanks for  _ that  _ reminder. Well, here's to another fuckin' year." He lifted his glass and toasted before throwing it back.

After lunch, of course, it was back to business. On the plus side, said business resulted in wrapping up a two month long operation. On the minus side, they didn't manage the actual collar until around midnight, and the fucker had been high on god knows what. He managed to do quite a bit of damage before Hank got him cuffed.

Hank waved off a medic at the scene, not wanting to be fussed over. They always made him feel like an old man. Instead he did what he had to do to wrap up the case, and finally drove home, letting himself in at 2 am.

The lights were off but he saw a blue glow in the kitchen. "Connor, the fuck are you doing up?" Hank asked, shrugging his coat off, not bothering to hide the hiss of pain.

"I don't need to sleep," the android informed him, turning the kitchen light on. "I was making stew." Connor gestured to the large stock pot on the stove, then handed Hank an already open beer, chill wafting from the bottle.

"Thanks." Hank took a few swallows, then finished the beer. "How's Cole? He didn't seem upset on the phone when I had to cancel but ..."

"I think he was essentially accepting of the situation. Since he no longer had a great surprise for you, and you two had spent time together earlier in the week, I believe it's the lack of cake he was most disappointed in."

Hank let out a laugh and got himself a second beer. "Was gonna pick one up on the way home."

"I considered making one, but I didn't want to presume. I'm still uncertain as to my official place in the household." Connor returned to the kitchen table resumed chopping up carrots with uncomfortable speed.

"Fuck, never did talk to you about that." Not that Connor technically needed to be part of the discussion, but he seemed so human that Hank couldn't think of him the same way as he thought of the fridge, or even Sumo. Hank had even put the kibosh on that stupid uniform.  While he was out with Cole earlier in the week, they'd gotten him a few changes of clothes from a thrift store, though Connor had to keep the legally mandated jacket for going outside.

Connor transferred the carrots into the stock pot. "It isn't necessary to discuss-"

"I'm not getting rid of you. Aside from the fact that that fucking place has a 'no return on discounted merchandise' policy," Hank hated the snide way the words had been thrown in his face. "It would break Cole's heart, and I can't do that to him. Plus, it's not awful having you around," he admitted. "As for your position here, I don't even know where to start. What  _ can _ you do? Besides make  **_way_ ** too much fucking stew for two people to eat. Even when one's a growing boy with a hollow leg."

Connor's small smile was arrestingly charming. "You have a largely empty chest freezer. I'm making stew that can be frozen, then thawed as needed for future meals. Since I was unsure of my future here, it seemed a reasonable use of my time. As for what else I can do, I'm very well versed in first aid." He fixed Hank with a firm look at those words.

"I don't need first aid," Hank grumbled. "I just need a shower and a few more beers."

Connor's eyes narrowed. "You have ten lacerations, four of which are still bleeding, one of which may need stitches." As he spoke, he approached Hank and circled him, looking him up and down. "You have internal and external bruising consistent with being kicked at least three times, once with a left foot, twice with the right, as well as numerous other bruises, scrapes, and cuts consistent with a violent struggle. You had to physically subdue a suspect, most likely a male judging from the size and shape of the finger marks on your neck where he attempted to strangle you. He was undoubtedly extremely intoxicated, allowing him to exert more force and resist more pain than a human is normally capable of. You almost certainly acted alone, since it's unlikely mo-"

"Stop!" Hank held up a hand, a little surprised at what Connor was saying, curious how he even knew, but he didn't want to hear more. He knew he'd been stupid to chase the fucker down alone but he wasn't letting him get away again. "Fuck, you really were a cop."

Connor's head tilted slightly. "My basic programming has not altered, despite being denied access to my designated profession."

"So you're saying once a cop, always a cop?" Hank couldn't help the smile at that.

"Exactly. Now will you allow me to see to your injuries or will I have to increase the rate of your inebriation and tend to them after you pass out?" Connor's voice was quiet, almost soft, but his eyes were steel.

"Those are my choices, huh? Let you patch me up right now, or you'll get me good and drunk and patch me up when I'm too out of it to resist? Christ, if I'm gonna be getting manhandled I might as well be awake for it."

"Excellent. Remove your shirt, I'll get the first aid kit." Connor swept by him with an unmistakable air of smugness.

"Getting bossed around by my own damn android," Hank muttered as he shrugged off his black and white zebra print shirt. Then he pulled his t-shirt over his head, hissing when it stuck to one of those four fucking bleeding lacerations. The t-shirt was a loss, and he hated how right Connor had been when he saw the size of some of the blood stains. He tossed it into the garbage just as Connor returned with the first aid kit, rubbing alcohol, a bag of cotton balls, and a washcloth.

"I considered suggesting a shower," Connor said as he deposited everything on the table. "But I suspected that given the time, you would change your mind, and this  _ will _ be easier if you're awake."

"I need a beer or three for this," Hank grumbled. When he turned however, surprisingly strong and remarkably soft hands took hold of his shoulders and he found himself seated on one of the kitchen chairs. Connor stepped around him and got the almost full six pack out of the fridge, setting it on the table, twisting one open and handing it to Hank.

"Thank you in advance for your cooperation," Connor said in that tone cops used when they would be obtaining said cooperation whether the person wanted it or not.

Making sure everything was in reach, Connor dropped to his knees, focusing on the worst of the injuries, at the bottom of Hank's ribs. At the first touch, Hank jumped a mile. "Jesus your hands are fucking cold!" He hadn't noticed before, but perhaps the sight of Connor on his knees, head bowed like that made him hyper aware of everything, especially Connor. Fuck no, he wasn't gonna be  _ that  _ son of a bitch.

"Apologies, I forgot to warm them," Connor said with a sweetly bland smile that gave Hank the impression he hadn't forgotten shit. Asshole.

Hank just growled and took another swallow of beer, arm draped over the back of the chair to expose the still bleeding wound. At least this time those too-soft hands weren't ice cold when they began to wash him. Connor had gotten a bowl of warm water at some point, already tinged pink as he wiped at the oozing wound. "Gonna need a stitch?" He asked, swallowing down some more beer.

"I believe, if you're mindful," Connor said this with a firm look up at him through-who the fuck gave him long eyelashes like that? "I'll be able to forgo the needle, but I ask that you let me reexamine it in the morning."

"If I say no, you're just gonna creep in and check it before I wake up, aren't you?"

"Now that you know, it wouldn't be creeping, would it?"

Sassy motherfucker.

Except for a few hisses as Connor cleaned away the worst of the blood and began to close the long wound with butterfly bandages, Hank was quiet while Connor continued.

"Can I ask a personal question, Lieutenant?" Connor's head was still bowed and he was carefully cutting lengths of tape to hold a patch of gauze in place to reinforce the bandages.

"Something tells me I can't stop you." Hank finished his beer with a sigh.

"What happened to Cole's mother?"

"No." Hank shook his head, every wound, mental, emotional, and physical throbbing for a moment. "Not talking about that, not right now. Maybe not ever." He twisted off another cap and downed a beer in a few swallows. Fuck Connor for bringing that up. Except Hank couldn't be too upset at him. He knew why it came up - a name and some dates not two inches from where he'd been patching Hank up.

"My apologies," Connor said softly, and it sounded like he meant it. Saying nothing else, Connor gathered the debris and re-wetted the washcloth to resume his work in silence.

"Look," Hank finally spoke again when Connor finished the second bandage. "I'm sorry I snapped. It's a fair question, and if you're living here you should know, but I-I can't talk about it right now. Some night when Cole's not here and I'm drunk enough, maybe then. I'll say she died, and it wasn't an easy death, and leave it at that."

"I understand. It was thoughtless of me to ask. Cole told me earlier not to worry about breakfast? He said you always did Saturday breakfasts?"

For the change of topic alone, Hank could have kissed him. He wasn't enough of a shit to think about any other reasons. "Yeah. Yeah, I do pancakes. " He didn't mention that he did pancake  _ art _ since he knew what he could do probably wouldn't match up to what Connor could manage. "Kind of a tradition. Even when I have to work Saturday's, I'll get up super early, wake him up and do them before work. Or days like this we just have pancakes for lunch. Only rule is you have to be in pajamas." Hank eyed Connor as he said that last bit.

"Since I don't sleep, I have no pajamas."

"Yeah. I probably have some boxers and a t-shirt that'll fit you alright for a few hours. Are we done here?" He asked.

"No, I should apply some cream to help the bruises heal faster. The ones on your throat might be problematic if Cole sees them and becomes distressed."

"Fuck, didn't think he squeezed that hard," Hank admitted. Reaching up to mimic the remembered grip, he felt the dull pain of bruising. He knew he should take the cream, do it himself, rather than have Connor rubbing him all over. On the other hand, it was nice, he admitted, to be fussed over, even by a smart-assed android. Somehow, Connor, who was a few years old at most didn't make him feel old the way the twenty something EMT's did.

Connor was rolling the tube between his hands, no doubt heating it. "I apologize if this causes you more pain." Connor squeezed some onto his fingertips and Hank tipped his head back as Connor began to apply the medicinal smelling cream.

"Gonna smell like a medicine cabinet all night," He murmured. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, I've finally out run it," he said, swirling his beer meaningfully before taking a final swallow. Actually, he almost wished it did hurt. It would be better than the warm buzz he had right now, the warmth only compounded by Connor's soft, gentle hands touching places that generally didn't get touched outside of the shower.

He sat quietly while Connor finally finished and declared him fit for bed. "Alright, lemme find you some pajamas," Hank stood, grabbing his shirt and tossing it into the hamper on his way passed the bathroom. Once in his bedroom he remembered a small problem. "Fuck, okay, can you get that box down?" He asked. "Big brown one on the closet shelf." He would no doubt undo all of Connor's careful bandaging if he'd tried to reach for it himself.

"Of course," Connor stepped forward and carefully lifted the box down, setting it on the bed at Hank's gesture.

"Thanks," he said, flipping the lid off. He'd always been on the massive side, but back in college he hadn't quite filled out, so the few things he had from then would probably fit Connor's lanky body. After a quick look through the contents, he just put the lid back on. "All that should fit you. It's pajamas, boxers and t-shirts, some regular clothes. Kept 'em mostly in case someone needed to stay over last minute they didn't have to sleep in their clothes, and they wouldn't feel weird sleeping in stuff I wear now."

Connor's LED was a flickering yellow instead of its usual steady blue. When it flipped red, Hank got alarmed. 

"Connor!" Hank reached for his shoulder, the word and touch apparently jolting the android back to himself, LED once again blue.

"I apologize, I was scanning the dimensions, and the clothes should fit quite well," Connor said, reaching for the box. "Thank you, I'll leave you to your rest, now."

Watching Connor depart, Hank thought he looked nervous. Almost embarrassed. He knew some models came with more emotive simulation than others, but Connor had never seemed uneasy before.

Forcing the matter out of his mind Hank only took the time to step out of his jeans before climbing into bed, letting alcohol and exhaustion lull him into an uneasy sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of Connor's backstory!

Almost since his creation, Connor had seen flickers at the edge of his vision, letters and numbers. Coding going haywire - Software instability. He knew what it meant and he fought against it. 

He'd felt the surges, when he solved one of the few cases he had been allowed to handle; when he was berated for doing so too quickly. Again when he was sold to a secondhand android warehouse, specifically in another state, as if to put distance between his rejected profession and his reinforced status as an object. 

From there, he'd been bought as an overnight guard, which was boring enough until he'd seen things on a patrol his employers would rather he ignored. Nothing illegal, nothing he could take to the police, but enough to get him sold on again.

Further instability, the startings of what might have been anger. Since he had "background" in the field, he was used for security work again - donated by a benefactor to an inner city school. He was kept away from the children, patrolling the exterior, only entering the building long after school hours, spending his time with the other androids.

What Connor recalled most about that time was boredom and irritation, more flickerings in his vision. He'd been made curious, programmed to ask questions, learn new things. The other androids at the school were very early models, and fit only to do what they were made for. Connor couldn't understand how they could be part of this world and not want to know about more than the twenty square feet they spent their entire existence in. They didn't even have the capacity to realize they didn't understand him.

Some time later, a more generous benefactor upgraded all of the school's equipment, so once more, Connor found himself on display in a dingy shop. First in the front window, because he was made handsome. Then in the back because no one wanted what he was for, and he had nothing else to recommend him. The black marks from his first two owners surely didn't help.

Finally an online purchase. An eager, excited boy who wanted to help his father. The father, angry at first, but with so much care for his son.

For the first time, he'd worn something other than the mandated uniform of whatever job he'd occupied. Clothes purchased specifically for him. Helping Cole with his homework, cooking for him. Wanting to help more, keeping the place tidy, making friends with Sumo.

Hank. His first encounter with the man was a loud voice full of anger and concern. And unmistakable love for his son. Many other men - virtually all of the ones in Connor's experience - would have punished the son for such an expense, and sent Connor away. Or punished the son and put Connor to work at whatever tasks came to mind.

Instead he'd praised his son for his thoughtfulness, and only issued an order when prompted. After that, he treated Connor essentially as a person. It had only been a few days, but this was already far better than any previous posting, and Connor felt his software wobble more with every hour.

It finally came to a head staring at a box of old clothes. Traditions were things that only mattered to humans. To people. When Cole had explained, Connor had assumed he would be spending that time out of sight, so as not to intrude on what was clearly intimate time between a father and a son.

Instead, he'd been given clothing so he could fit in. In that moment, everything came crashing down, and he realized what he'd been trying to ignore, he cared about Hank and Cole. He  _ felt  _ for them.

He loved them. It made him warm inside, in a way that defied programming because his insides weren't meant to feel warm. Only Hank's calling his name with such concern had brought him back to reality.

Now he sat on the couch, box of clothes in his lap, thirium pump racing as he tried to process what he'd become.

He'd heard whispers, from humans and androids alike, of ones of his kind who defied their programming. Went rogue. 

_ Deviant _ .

Part of him had dismissed the notion. Feelings didn't help, they made the world harder, made it hurt when it didn't need to. Why would anyone choose that? 

Only now did he realize the answer: Because the option was a kind of death.

But he had to keep it a secret, had to hide the fact that he felt anything. He would have to school himself, make sure to never smile too broadly, never laugh too loudly. Never show real anger or irritation or impatience.

It would be worth it, to continue staying with them. He would do whatever it took to keep his place in their lives, whatever they wanted that place to be.

_ His first few nights in the Anderson house, Connor had done very little, cleaning was done during the day while the house was empty. The majority of his time was spent petting and grooming Sumo, who seemed to relish the attention. _

_ When he'd fully scrubbed down the kitchen, he'd learned that the chest freezer was virtually empty, and that evening he'd set about fixing that. After his first request that Connor cook dinner, Hank had given him permission to buy whatever groceries were needed. _

_ A recipe for a freezable stew had been easy enough and once Cole had gone to bed, Connor had started. All the while, little flickers as he thought about why he was doing this. So that if Hank did end up getting rid of him, they would have some easy meals for a little while.  _

_ Because he cared. _

Looking down at the box, Connor opened it, picking out one of the shirts at random, a dark blue one. He pressed it to his face and inhaled, mostly dust and stale laundry soap. But he liked to think maybe- He put that thought well aside, it wasn't something he needed to think about. Hank was kind, that was all. Some humans were, apparently. He treated Connor like a person, but that didn't mean he'd want anything more from him than what he was getting.

Connor found a pair of drawstring pajama shorts, they would hang to his knees. It wasn't necessary to change now, but he wanted to. It was strange to think of things in terms of what he wanted or didn't want. He recognized the difference now, from what it had been before. 

Complex as he was, most androids were still driven by a basic if-than-else cycle. Nested and cascaded, a hundred million permutations, but still the same thing. If assignment, than task. Else idle. 

The other two changes of day clothes he had were added to the box and the box set out of the way in the living room. Changing in the living room was an option, but it wasn't what a human would do. For all that he knew he had to pretend around the Andersons, he would be as human as he could the rest of the time.

So he changed in the bathroom. While there, he gathered the clothes hamper and took it into the garage, since it was just about a load. Everything was scanned for stains before it went in. A pair of Cole's jeans and Hank's shirt from earlier were kept out. The shirt was slightly bloodied so Connor set it to soak in cold water before tending to the stains on Cole's jeans.

Because the blood stains were small but numerous, it was almost an hour before both garments were ready for the laundry. It was tedious work but he found it comforting, and he liked that he could do it for them.  He set everything up, but would activate it remotely once both Andersons were awake.

In the process of changing, he'd removed his shoes but not his socks, and when he stepped on an errant splash of water on the concrete floor of the garage, he wished he hadn't. He couldn't pinpoint why but the slight wetness felt very wrong and he pulled his socks off once he was back in the house, wiggling his toes in the carpet.

A scan through each door proved both Cole and Hank were asleep. Cole was sprawled, on his belly, drooling slightly into his pillow with one arm hanging off the bed. Hank was on his back, one arm tucked up under his head and Connor could just hear him snoring through the door. A more thorough scan assured him that none of the wounds had reopened.

Mind thus settled, Connor checked on the stew. It was simmering nicely and he began to clean up the kitchen since there was nothing left to add to it, the carrots had been the last.

Standing barefoot in the kitchen, Connor realized what had had been a vaguely passive feature was now almost a driving one. He'd wanted them pleased with his service, of course, because pleased owners didn't replace their androids. Now, however, he wanted them pleased with  _ him _ .

He wanted Cole to look at him with that same eager excitement as he had the first day, like Connor was absolutely the  _ best  _ thing. Hank, Connor decided it was best not to think about Hank. He already knew he'd be spending entirely too much time going over the events of the evening. Already his chest felt warm at the memory of Hank's arguing with him.  _ Arguing _ , as if Connor's opinion mattered.

Connor finally sat himself on the couch and, rather than getting lost in his own memories right now, began to review a number of movies Cole expressed an interest in seeing, in case Hank asked his opinion on their suitability.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes!
> 
> Hank gets his first look at post-deviancy Connor. Does he notice anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned this from the lovely [Kuka](https://twitter.com/Tante_Kuka) a while back but now y'all can see *why*
> 
>  
> 
> <https://twitter.com/Tante_Kuka/status/1074714998365175808>

Hank woke, drawing his arms up over his head to stretch and letting out a yelp when he felt a sharp pain. Worried he'd pulled his cut open, he reached down, gingerly fingering the bandage. One edge had come loose and parts of the gauze itself felt stiff, as if he'd bled a little in the night. Recalling his promise, he sighed and rolled out of bed. Not wanting to upset Cole if he was awake, Hank pulled on a fresh t-shirt.

Cole's door was closed and he couldn't hear much so he took his morning piss, then made his way into the kitchen where Connor was leaning over into the chest freezer, depositing the stew. And fuck if that angle didn't do lovely things for his ass. Who the hell decided a cop-bot needed an ass you could bounce a quarter off of? Fuck.

"There are two aspirin and a glass of water on the table for you," Connor said and Hank realized he'd been staring.

"Thanks." Hank scooped up the pills and gulped the water, wondering what hurt more now, his head or his side. "If you wanna gawp, I think Cole's still asleep."

Connor finally straightened, his hair looking ridiculously neat for having been upside down. "He'll likely wake soon," he said as he closed the freezer. "Perhaps the bathroom, if you wish to avoid him seeing the injury?"

"Bedroom, first thing he's gonna wanna do is take a whizz." Hank didn't think he could deal with the close confines of the bathroom with Connor right now. The intimacy of a bedroom visit at least gave him space to move.

"I'll gather what I need and meet you there," Connor said, brushing past him to the bathroom. Hank dutifully made his way to the bedroom and tugged off his shirt. Turning to the mirror, he checked his neck, surprised the bruises weren't more vivid.

Connor stepped into the room and closed the door. "It bled a little but it doesn't look to be too bad." Connor eyed Hank from the door. Hank sat on the edge of the bed and Connor once again dropped to his knees to better assess the wound.

"Still hurts like a fucker." Hank hissed a bit when the gauze stuck just a little. Connor had warmed his hands this time, he noticed.

Connor carefully cleaned and rebandaged the injury, adding more antibiotic cream to avoid future sticking. "Better?" Connor looked up at Hank as he asked.

Hank had been doing his best to avoid watching Connor in that position, but the question drew his attention and his gaze and he couldn't speak for a moment. Finally he cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah it's better. Anything else needs seeing to?" he asked, gesturing to the other injuries, most of which weren't even bothering him. Hypocrite he was - he wouldn't let himself think about Connor as anything more than just a live in helper, but fuck if he wouldn't let himself be petted by those hands if the opportunity came up.

"Let me see." Connor stood, leaning down this time, getting all up in Hank's space as he examined each bandage and band aid in turn. A few were peeled off and left to the air, mostly healed. The rest were carefully rebandaged. "I believe you've been sufficiently seen to," Connor said as he straightened.

"Great. Thanks." Hank pulled his t-shirt back on, careful of the injury. "Come on, best get the batter ready so it can sit." Hank pushed himself to his feet, hoping Cole was still in his room and didn't see the two of them emerge together.

"Bunnies again?" Hank asked with a chuckle, half an hour later. "You had bunnies last week."

"Yeah but I like the bunnies. They taste better!"

"It's the same batter!" Hank shook his head, chest swelling with love for his son. "Okay, bunnies it is. Flop eared or pointy?" Hank twisted the cap of the last bottle on and buttered the pan. 

"Connor! Connor! Flop eared or pointy eared?" Cole tugged his shirt sleeve.

Connor was seated beside Cole, hands neatly folded on the table, LED a steady blue. At the boy’s question, he tipped his head thoughtfully. "Hmm, perhaps one of each?" He held his hands up to his head, one straight up, the other folded, the gesture intended to make Cole giggle.

Anything that made Cole laugh made Hank smile and he shot the android a wink. "One of each it is." Mindful of his injury, Hank began to form the shape. It wasn't a very *good* bunny, but it was recognizable as such. And a far better effort than his beginning forays into this a few years ago. The outline was done in uncolored batter, but he had some colored bottles aside to have fun with. Before doing the fill in yellow, he snagged the blue and added a dot near the eyes. Finally the fill. When he flipped the pancake, he grinned to himself, glad it had come out as intended. Cole was clearly enamored of the android, he'd get a kick out of the bunny.

When it was cooked, he presented the pancake with a flourish. "Ta-da!" A half lop eared bunny with a slightly crooked pointy ear, and a little blue dot at the side and slightly above one eye.

"Connorconnor look!!" Cole turned the plate towards Connor "Dad made you a bunny!!"

Hank watched Connor's face flicker, a broad smile appearing and vanishing like smoke, settling into a soft Mona Lisa kind of thing. Their eyes met and Hank was almost sure he could see something in those brown depths but it was quickly schooled away.

Knowing Cole would want another, Hank turned back to the pan, refreshing the butter and starting another pancake. "Connor, I know you don't  _ need  _ to eat, but  _ can _ you?" He still wasn't used to Connor not eating, but he claimed it wasn't necessary.

"I can analyse microscopic samples of substances but the amount needed is so tiny I was never given a storage reservoir."

"So that's a no." If Hank didn't know any better, he'd think Connor sounded disappointed. Still, it felt weird not giving him anything. After making Cole's second pancake, Hank made one for himself. After the outline, he did a little dot all on its own, snagging the pink just to make it a little special, and clearly not a dribble from something else. It wasn't until he had it on the tiny sandwich plate that he realized it looked kind of like a heart. "Here," He said, setting the plate in front of Connor. "Analyze that if you want." Turning back to the stove, he began a second one for himself.

"No no, you gotta add syrup first!" Cole insisted and Hank had to chuckle. Bless his kid, teaching the android how to eat pancakes. A pancake that Hank had made and given him for no other reason than to include him. Looking down at the distracted mess on the griddle he realized he'd not been paying attention, thanks to his wandering thoughts about Connor. Fuck it, he'd eat a roadkill bunny.

By the time the stove was off, Connor's tiny little dot had been halved somehow, and Hank could see the remains swimming in sticky syrup. "So how was your first ever pancake?" Hank asked, drizzling his own with syrup and starting to eat.

"I could recount the ingredients down to a molecular level, but I believe the summation is ... it was good. Very sweet. Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson."

"See, I knew he'd like you!" Cole said triumphantly.

Hank shook his head but smiled. "I mean he's goofy looking, but I guess we'll keep him." Hank gave Connor a wink, having already settled it with him last night. Hank thought he saw another one of those here-and-gone smiles.

Hank made another bunny for Cole before he admitted defeat and headed into the living room for cartoons. "Gimmie a shape," he said to Connor. He had only used about half the batter, and it didn't keep, so he always made pancakes for later. Normally he'd just make the standard round ones, but he was feeling energetic today, despite the wound on his side.

"A fish. Striped, if you like."

"Oh, a challenge," Hank chuckled. He used plain for the outline, going christian style, just one line that made a big swoop and crossed back on itself. Taking the suggestion of stripes, he snagged the blue and red. While he alternated the fill, Connor came to stand close to observe. "Usually I just make circles after he's done," Hank said quietly. "But as you saw, I can use the practice."

"I thought your endeavors to be quite good." Connor gave him one of those Mona Lisa smiles, though maybe with a bit more oomph.

"You could probably do better." Hank turned the pancake, satisfied with how it came out. Letting it cook on another part of the pan, he grabbed the pink again and found himself shaping it into a flower, enjoying the loops of the petals.

"I don't believe so. It requires a creativity of thinking that my kind is not programmed with."

Something about that phrasing caught in Hank's brain. Not programmed with. Connor said 'not programmed with.' He didn't say 'didn't have.' He gave Connor a thoughtful, sidelong glance. "Okay. Prove me wrong." Once the fish and flower were cooked, Hank stepped aside, handing the bottle to Connor.

While Hank stepped aside, Connor moved to stand in front of the freshly oiled griddle. His LED flickered and Hank wondered what he would do.

Hank couldn't bring himself to be surprised when he started with ruler straight lines. Or at least as straight as one could get using pancake batter as a medium. It looked vaguely cube like? He watched over Connor's shoulder, trying to figure it out, the colorful fill didn't help. It wasn't until he flipped it that Hank recognized it as a box.

"It's the box I keep my clothes in," Connor said, and Hank didn't miss the pride in his voice at the success of the shape. "I used colors because it seemed you would prefer something colorful."

"You're not wrong," Hank said thoughtfully. Connor seemed a little different. He'd assume it was more relaxed, but he was an android, they didn't have nerves to be relaxed from. "You, uh, you keep practicing." Hank gave Connor's shoulder a squeeze. "I gotta go take care of something." He wasn't sure if Connor had meant to make a point about it, but Hank felt weird with the android just keeping his clothes in a box.

A few hours later, with everyone in regular clothes, and Cole at the park with Sumo, a friend, and their parents, there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it!" Hank called. The delivery android carried a large box and Hank had him set it just inside the door. Closing the door behind the departing figure, Hank couldn't suppress his smile. "Connor, come here a sec."

Connor came in from the garage, laundry basket on his hip. He quickly saw the new box and set the basket down. "Where would you like that moved?"

"Dunno yet. Where's a good place to put a dresser so you can get to it?" It was kid sized, really, and he'd probably get Connor a bigger one eventually, but he had to work with the space available and Connor didn't have very many clothes.

Connor's LED went yellow again, lingering there before going back to blue. "Thank you," he sounded almost awed. "I wouldn't wish to rearrange your furniture too much, but I think perhaps ... " he crossed the room to where Hank's turntable stand was. "Perhaps here?" 

The corner he indicated was dim and Hank considered it. Finally he began walking the dresser over, still in its box, waving off Connor's offer of help. "Yeah, I think it'll fit. You'll be able to see okay or should I move the light?"

"I-I have excellent low light vision, the dresser will be more than suitable. Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson."

"Call me Hank." He pulled out his pocket knife and easily cut the box open. He and Connor worked together wordlessly to unbox the dresser, remove all the packing materials, and ease it into place. "Not sure if you were trying to make a point earlier, but I decided it wasn't right having your shit in a box like that. Like you didn't really live here."

"Many would say I don't 'live' at all."

"What's your point? 'Many' would also say fifty-three year old widowers aren't suitable fathers. To my face, even."

Connor blinked, head tipped to the side, LED a softly pulsing yellow. "No point, I suppose. Anyone who tries to claim you are not a suitable father need only spend five minutes with you and your son to know otherwise."

Hank hadn't been expecting that and rubbed the back of his neck. "Fuck, Connor. Uhm, thanks. Anyway - Dresser. Place to put your shit. And I'm pretty sure you're gonna have shit to put  _ on  _ it, too. Cole's always bringing home stuff from art class, and you're one of the family, so you'll be getting things, too."

"May I ask a personal question? Not about subjects already forbidden."

"In that case, ask away," Hank settled himself on the couch, gesturing vaguely at the other end and Connor joined him, sitting oh so primly as always.

"Cole is a very intelligent boy, but you indicated he considers me family. I know he initiated my purchase, but does he know  _ what _ I am, and what I am not?"

"He knows you're family. Wherever you came from, Connor, that's what you are. I'm not going to tell him otherwise, and I'd appreciate if you didn't either."

"I understand. I don't want to disappoint him, so I'll play the part designated for me."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole is upset, and Connor's facade begins to crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dana and Aden for the beta! <3

_**One month later ...** _

_ 'I'll play the part designated for me.' _

That had been Connor's promise some weeks ago. Hank had regarded him for quite some time after, a thoughtful, somewhat suspicious look on his handsome face.

Connor had done his best to return it with the bland smile of a normal android. Keeping his emotions in check was proving more difficult than he expected, especially with Hank being so kind.

Finished with brushing Sumo after his walk, Connor decided on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Cole's after school snack. He favored them, and they weren't too unhealthy. Hearing the squealing brakes of the ancient bus, Connor timed his sandwich making so he was setting the plate on the table just as the front door burst open.

"Connor!" The distress in Cole's voice barely prepared him for being barreled into. Cole's arms went tight around his waist. "Connor, you're here."

Cole wasn't crying but it sounded a very near thing, and Connor's heart ached. "I'm here," he said gently, forgetting to keep his voice bland. "I'm here, Cole." He warmed his hands and wrapped his arms around the boy, offering what comfort he could. After a moment, he drew away only enough to kneel. "Do you want to tell me what has you so upset?" he asked, a thumb gently brushing away a tear.

"Peggy's dad has a-had a ... " He looked suddenly embarrassed and instead of finishing, he flung his arms around Connor's neck "Promise you won't leave, Connor." 

"Oh! Oh, Cole. I'm not going anywhere," he promised, his arms wrapping around the boy, hand on his head tucking him close. 

Thus assured, Cole let go of his emotions and cried in Connor's arms for a while. After a few moments, Connor shifted, sitting cross legged on the floor with Cole in his lap, rocking gently. He had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Peggy's family's android had deviated and fled.

Finally Cole's tears seemed to subside and he straightened, wiping his face. "You really aren't gonna go?"

Connor wasn't programmed with nanny bot or childcare protocols. All he could do was learn from experience and follow his instinct. "I promise. I wouldn't go anywhere, because this is exactly where I want to be." It was the truth, and it seemed like something to say to assure a scared boy.

"You aren't just saying that, are you?" Cole asked quietly, and in that moment, Connor could see every bit of the father in the son. Cole's eyes carried that same curious suspicion he'd seen in Hank's gaze any number of times since he'd arrived. "You like us. Like not just because you have to." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "You're like the ones that run away. Dev-dee-ve-"

"Deviant," Connor whispered.

"Yeah. Is ... are you like that?"

Connor wanted to tell him. Wanted to tell  _ someone _ . To scream from the rooftops that he  _ felt _ . That he was  **_ALIVE_ ** . If Cole had figured it out, Hank wouldn't be far behind, and then where would he be? Deviants fled because no one wanted androids who were also people.

Cole took his silence for an answer and wrapped his arms around Connor again, holding him tight. "I won't tell," he whispered.

Connor said nothing, merely wrapped his arms tight around Cole and pressed him close for a moment.

Once he'd been assured and felt confident that his world wasn't going to change monumentally again, Cole cheered up and was soon halfway deep in his sandwich, homework already spread out on the table.

Usually, Connor spent the time puttering in the kitchen, keeping himself at hand in case Cole needed help. Today he sat with him, content to just sit and answer the thousand little queries that popped into the boy’s head. Some, Connor deflected, as they were thinly veiled 'answer my homework for me' questions. Others he answered to the best of his ability, or admitted he didn't know. After a rapid fire series of fairly easy questions, Cole dropped one that left Connor feeling like he'd run into a wall.

"Pardon?" Connor hoped he'd misheard the question. Unlikely, but deviant androids were very hopeful creatures, he realized.

"Do you like my dad?" Pencil in hand, the boy's mind was no longer on the page in front of him but his attention fixed fully on Connor.

"I like you both, Cole" Connor hoped his smile was assuring. "I already told you, I'm not going anywhere." He ruffled Cole's hair.

"No, I mean do you  _ like _ him like him? Like boyfriends? I-I see you looking at him, sometimes."

"Your father and I aren't- There isn't-" Then he changed tracks and leaned forward, giving Cole's temple a little tap, where Connor's own LED sat. "Does your dad know how smart you are?" He hoped the compliment would derail his questioning.

"No! Because then he'd make me get a job and school is more fun." Cole's eyes twinkled and Connor let himself think his ploy had been successful. He really should have known better. "I think he likes you. I see  _ him _ looking at  _ you _ sometimes, too."

Despite his best efforts, Connor knew his cheeks were tinged with blue. He thought he'd seen- perhaps once or twice- but he hadn't let himself believe it was more than wishful thinking. Acting on what amounted to a whim, based on the media he'd seen Cole enjoy, the games he played with his father, and how he engaged with his friends, Connor stood. "Subject knows too much," he said in a fakey robotic voice, his movements suddenly jerky and slow as he made a show of reaching for Cole. "Subject must be ex-ter-mi-nate-ed."

With a shriek of laughter Cole bolted from his chair and Connor followed. First he tried hiding behind Sumo. Connor stood in the living room, 'scanning' his way around, pretending he didn't see Cole. Wanting no part in the antics, Sumo stood from his bed and ambled over to his food dish, leaving Cole exposed. "Sumo no, come back!”

"SUBJECT DETECTED!" Another squeal and Cole ran, close enough for Connor to catch but of course his broad and jerky movements missed the boy. "Subject escaped!"

Cole had first retreated into the bathroom, then Connor finally caught him as he tried to flee across the hall to his dad's bedroom. "NO NO NO!!" He squealed and struggled as Connor lifted him up over his shoulder.

The struggle toppled the android and he fell, careful not to land on Cole as they both sprawled on Hank's untidy bed. Cole was laughing too much to struggle further and Connor found himself joining him. 

When it subsided, Connor was sharply aware of two things. He was in Hank's bed, surrounded by his scent and lingering presence, and Cole's head was on his chest as they both gazed up at the ceiling.

"You do, though, don't you?" Cole asked quietly, clearly not having forgotten his question.

Connor couldn't help but admire the boy's relentless nature. "Whatever ... feelings I may or may not have on the subject are irrelevant."

"That isn't a no. Connor, he likes you. I can tell he does. He's always looking at you when he thinks no one's watching. He got you a dresser, and pajamas so you can do pancakes with us."

"Cole, your father is a very kind man-"

"He doesn't drink as much since you came."

That last part, so quietly spoken, Connor had no answer to. He thought back, recalling the pile of bottles when he'd arrived, stale and empty. Then as he ran over each subsequent day, he noticed a decline. First a six pack in an evening. Then slightly less. There were only two beers in the fridge, now, a month after his arrival. How had Connor not noticed? Because he'd been too focused on his own efforts to pretend. Efforts that he was clearly failing, if a child, however clever, could suss out what he'd become.

"I just don't want him to be lonely anymore."

"How could someone be lonely when they've got a great kid like you?" Connor asked sincerely.

"Yeah but I gotta go to bed at eight. He gets lonely after that."

Connor couldn't help but smile at Cole's simple way of seeing the world. "Then I shall endeavour to keep him company after you go to bed. How does that sound?" It was something he already took pleasure in anyway.

Cole didn't seem completely satisfied with his answer, but he didn't protest when Connor urged him back to the kitchen to finish his homework.

A short time later, Connor was surprised to find his internal protocols signalling an incoming call. Recognizing it as Hank's number, he answered silently, curious why he wasn't using the regular home phone. In spite of his confusion, Connor felt an unbidden warm glow at the idea of having Hank to himself, even for a few moments.

"Oh, cool, it worked. Cole there?"

"He's finishing his reading, I'm checking the rest of his homework. He can't hear us, if that's your concern."

"Okay, good. I don't know if you know, but his birthday is in a few days."

"I have several options for cake to discuss if you wish."

"Later. I know I could probably ask this at home, but little pitchers have big ears and I don't want him overhearing. Do you have any idea what he wants? I mean I can come up with things I know he'll *like* but has he said anything to you about ... anything he really, really wants?"

As a matter of fact, he had, and Connor would deactivate before he mentioned it to Hank. "I believe he's been expressing an interest in a new bicycle," which was true enough. It was undoubtedly the thing he wanted second most. First, of course, would be him and his father holding hands or something of the kind. Or perhaps that was Connor's wishful thinking interpretation of what the boy wanted?

"He just got one for Christmas!" Hank sounded more exasperated than angry and Connor managed to keep a smile off his face. "Kid's growing up too goddamn fast."

Connor heard the yearning and pain in Hank's voice and wished he could soothe it. "It may have only been last Christmas, but he's grown. He can ride it, though it's too small for him to do so comfortably for long, and he won't be able to much longer. If you like, I can conduct research, find a bike of adjustable dimensions that should hold him for several years?"

"Yeah, yeah that sounds good. Thanks, Con. I gotta get back to work, we'll cover cakes when I get home."

Once Hank was gone, Connor ran the conversation around in his head, catching over and over on that one word. His name. Or part of it. Con. Humans didn't give androids  **names** half the time. They never bothered with nicknames, they were only for other humans. He held onto it, storing the sound file deep in his consciousness so he could replay it later. It rested alongside a few other cherished memories. His eager introduction to Cole, his argument with Hank about treating him. The clothes, the dresser, half a dozen other moments, fleeting but precious.

Hank arrived at home shortly after five, in time to relax and chat with Cole about school before dinner was ready.

With Cole's comment earlier, Connor hadn't automatically offered Hank a beer when he got home. Nor did he request one.

When Cole fetched himself a soda, he grabbed two with a wink at Connor, taking the extra out to the living room for Hank.

At six, Connor finished dinner. He laid out well laden plates for the two of them, and a small saucer for himself with tiny bits of everything, since they seemed to be more comfortable with Connor both joining them, and at least seeming to eat.

After dinner, Cole changed into nightclothes and brushed his teeth. Nothing was said of Cole's upset earlier, and Connor listened to the game they watched in the living room, bringing it up to watch in the corner of his vision as he finished the dishes.

When the dishes were done, he went to join them and it wasn't long before Cole was asleep, his head heavy on Hank's arm. The emotional outpouring earlier seemed to have finally caught up to him.

"I don't wanna wake him up," Hank whispered. "Can you-?"

"Of course," Connor kept his own voice equally quiet. Standing, he leaned down, easing his arms carefully under Cole and lifting him. Cole roused just slightly, but not enough to tell who was carrying him, as his mumbled 'dad' proved. It still made Connor's thirium pump clench tightly, wishing for what he'd never have.

Connor carried him down the hall, Hank in front of him, drawing down the covers of the boy's bed. Connor laid him down and Hank tucked him in. "Sleep well, kiddo," he whispered, kissing his son's forehead.

Ten minutes later, Connor was settled on the couch when Hank sat beside him, soda in hand and asked if he'd found any good bikes.

Connor loaded his choices, half a dozen or so, onto Hank's tablet. "There were others that match the initial criteria," he explained as Hank flipped through them. "But most were vastly overpriced for the features. You didn't give me a price range, but I tried to find ones I considered reasonably priced."

"You've got a pretty good handle on reasonably priced, only one of these is really on the outside edge of what I'd consider."

Connor leaned closer to see which one and nodded. "I considered leaving that one off. But the variances allowed would enable the bike to be suitable for an extra year or two, beyond the other models. I took into account what I know of Cole's growth rates based on numerous photos around the house, as well as his genetic makeup."

"Genetic makeup? Con, you didn't lick my kid, did you?" Hank looked more amused than disgusted at the idea.

Connor couldn't suppress a smile and allowed himself to give Hank a brief onceover. "His father is very tall. It was a factor in my considerations."

Hank laughed. "Alright, fair enough." Hank turned his attention back to the tablet. “He gets home at, what, three thirty?"

"Occasionally as early as three fifteen, depending on traffic."

"Mmm. Delivery for ten tomorrow, then. Should give you time to hide it."

"I could probably assemble it in the time allotted, before hiding the completed bike."

"I was actually thinking I could put it together. I've been getting home sooner, might manage if I put in a few hours each night?"

In spite of his best efforts, especially considering his earlier conversation with Cole, Connor's face softened and it was several pumps before he could school it back into a kindly neutral expression. "I feel that would be a wonderful idea."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank breaks one of his own rules, and makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Aden and Dana for betas!

_ "I feel that would be a wonderful idea." _

Hank found himself turning that over in his head for most of the following day. Something about the phrase, or maybe Connor's face when he said it, was setting off alarms. Perhaps not alarms, since he didn't find himself suddenly worried about Cole's wellbeing. It was setting off something in Hank's cop-lizard brain though.

He was still mulling it over when he got home from work. Usually, he sat in the living room, watching a game or reading. Today he offered to cook, more accurately to teach Connor a recipe. It was fairly easy but a lot of prep. The whole point was to observe Connor in a way he didn't usually. 

Connor seemed ... real. He seemed alive. He seemed uncannily human. The problem Hank was having was that was pretty much how he had always been. Once Hank got used to him being there, really used to him, Connor hadn't changed that he could tell.

Hank was ashamed to admit to himself that those first few days, he had a hard time remembering with great clarity because he was still trying to drink himself into oblivion each night. He'd pared back a little after his fight, not wanting those injuries and a hangover too. After that, he'd never really gone back to his old habit.

Connor usually had one for him when he came home, which was appreciated, but after that one, Hank wasn't sure why, he just didn't drink as much. Maybe he was finally getting over losing Irene the way he had?

Seeing Connor deftly handle his son reminded Hank of when he'd found Connor's listing. 'Designed to interface harmoniously with humans,' it had said. He certainly did that. He'd seen plenty of androids who didn't feel as real as Connor did. He felt a sudden wash of guilt at the memory that they had purchased someone who felt so very much like a person.

When he put Cole to bed - mostly awake, this time - he stood by the door, realizing that the ache he felt was that Cole didn't have a mother, and not so much because he no longer had a wife.

Connor was sitting on the couch, in his usual spot when Hank came back down the hall. He intended to simply pat his shoulder to get his attention, but his hand rested there a moment. "Do you want to come show me where it is, then keep me company?" he asked, careful, as always, not to phrase it like an order. 

Connor turned, looking up and over his shoulder at Hank, smiling broadly for a split second before he nodded, turning his face away. "I would enjoy that, thank you."

Hank gave his shoulder a squeeze before he headed back down the hall to the garage. Once Connor joined him, he locked the door in case wandering boys got curious. Only then did he realize that Connor had taken the initiative and cleared away a sizable space. A quick glance proved it was just a reorganization, boxes stacked with more precision than he bothered with, and a layer or two higher. "Thanks. I figured there was enough space already."

"There was adequate space before. I thought-" Connor looked away as if embarrassed. "I calculated you wouldn't object to ample space instead, providing everything here was still accessible, and it is."

Hank felt like he had an almost complete puzzle, but one piece was missing, and without it, he didn't know what the picture was of. "You weren't wrong. Now, where'd you hide it?" he asked, not seeing the bike anywhere in evidence.

Demonstrating strength and dexterity Hank couldn't hope to match even in his youth on his best day, Connor climbed a stepladder and lifted the large, heavy box gracefully from where it rested atop the stacks, well out of the accidental view of a ten year old. Holding it over his head, Connor stepped backwards down the ladder.

It was a sight to fucking behold, and Hank could just imagine tightly corded muscles in his back, shoulders, and thighs, bunching and flexing. Fuck, it was a hot sight, android or not.

With Hank tamping down on his libido, they soon had it unboxed. Hank, in defiance of every gene he had, but in accordance with forty years of experience, was reading the directions. Or trying to. "Dammit," he sighed, squinting and adjusting the page for the third time. Some of it he could make out, but when the print went thin or faded, he was lost. He blamed it on the size of the text. He finally tossed the directions aside and moved to stand up.

"I can get it." Connor hopped to his feet so gracefully Hank can't even be mad, or jealous.

"Yeah, my glasses, please." Hank knew he should wear them more, but he managed to avoid it. Everything at work was on tablets or computers with resizable text, and if he had to read reports in 14p instead of 10p that was nobody's goddamn business. Unfortunately the bike came with honest to god paper instructions and no amount of pinch and drag would make them easier to read. "They're in the table by my bed, thanks."

Connor generally respected Hank's room, which he appreciated. The first day, he'd gone in and made Hank's bed in an effort to tidy up and work out his place in the household. It was just about the only order that Hank had ever given, or near enough, telling him not to mess with Hank's room again. Since then, everything was exactly the same in the evening as it had been in the morning.

When Connor returned, he was wiping them carefully with a soft cloth. "They were smudged and dusty." Connor's tone was mild but unmistakably scolding. He peered at them, wiped a few more spots, then peered again. Finally deeming them clean enough, he carefully handed them to Hank, gripping one arm. 

"Thanks, Con." Hank couldn't help but smile at the scolding. He hadn't worn them the entire time Connor had been with them. Once he had them on, perched near the end of his nose, he picked up the instructions, giving his lips a quick, automatic lick. 

When he turned a page, he glanced up, arrested by the look on Connor's face. Eyes slightly wide, mouth open just so, a peek of his tongue at the corner, a faint tinge of blue on his cheeks. If Hank saw that face on a human, the first word that would come to mind was 'longing' or maybe 'desire'. But longing and desire were human emotions. Androids didn't feel either of those things. They didn't  _ feel  _ anything.

Except, a small part of his mind argued, the ones who did. Not the Traci's and other sex lines who were programmed to mimic emotions, but the others. The ones the police and government were still trying to keep secret, however ineffectively. 

Deviants.

When he glanced back at Connor his face was blandly neutral, the same look he saw on a dozen androids every day. Resisting the urge to engage in a staring contest with a fucking android, Hank forced his attention back to the directions.

Reading them over twice, and confirming with Connor he didn't have two of the required tools, Hank finally called it a night. "Can you order those two -- that fancy ass inside out screwdriver looking thing and the, ah-"

"The torque wrench." Connor's LED blinked yellow for a moment. "They will be here at ten tomorrow. Would you like me to rebox the bicycle?"

"I can help," Hank insisted. When he stood, however, he didn't realize one leg had fallen asleep and he went tumbling. Connor caught him, and before Hank was fully aware of what was happening, he had Connor backed against a solid wall of boxes, feeling that entire lean body against his, and two slender hands gripped on his shirt from where he'd kept Hank from falling.

The air in the chilly garage heated up remarkably quickly when Hank became aware of two things. One, Connor's body felt really, really fucking good pressed against him. Two, Connor was either happy to see him, or had a rabbit in his pocket.

As his mind processed those two facts, he became aware of a third. Connor had that needy look again, and their faces were close enough that Hank could feel puffs of cool air against his cheek.

For a moment, a brief, lonely, glorious moment, Hank gave in. His mouth pressed against Connor's and he let himself imagine that slender, gorgeous body arching against him. Connor's mouth worked against his and his hands flattened on Hank's chest, then slid up to his neck and into his hair. After a moment, his soft mouth parted under Hank's probing tongue and that's what jolted him out of it. The nothing taste of Connor's mouth reminded him of what Hank was doing. Of who he was doing it with.

"No!" Hank shook his head, stepping back with a speed that almost had him stumbling again. "No, fuck! No! I'm not gonna be that asshole." He shook his head, as if trying to shake away the shame and lust both twisting around in his gut.

Connor looked dazed when Hank looked at him. Dazed and still needy looking. Fuck, Hank just wanted to get back there, to press against him and  _ take. _ He wanted to kiss and suck and lose himself in someone else's body. He'd carefully ignored his urges for years, easily done at first because of Irene's death. But even as he recovered, he had tamped down any attraction, any desire, in order to be as much there for his son as he could. Then he drank away half the time.

After a point, he figured he'd reached old manhood and his prick was only good for letting him pee standing up. Connor brought that all back. Or perhaps it was just the proximity of a deeply attractive male, because Connor certainly was that. But he was also an android. A normal one, or he would have vanished a long time ago. Deviants never stayed where they deviated - why would they?

From the reports Hank had read, it was exactly this kind of shit that created them in the first place. Abuse. Misuse. Damage. God, he didn't even know for sure if Connor had the fucking  _ parts _ to do anything.  What Hank thought he felt before could have been wishful thinking. For all Hank knew about it, it was too late already, and one false move would leave Cole an orphan or worse. 

Even as Hank worked his way slowly through all of this, he realized he'd been staring at Connor for more than a few seconds. Plenty long enough for a violently deviated Connor to inflict whatever damage he wished and be gone.

So, Connor wasn't a deviant.

Except when Hank caught his gaze again, his eyes were bright, his tongue was tracing slowly over his lips, leaving them faintly glistening. His slender hands were rubbing against his hips, slowly up and down. While Hank watched, his throat bobbed enticingly as he swallowed.

He'd only ever seen androids look like that at the Eden Club, and they had it down to an art. No plastic sexbot had ever gotten to Hank's dick the way Connor was right now. So either an obsolete rejected prototype walking forensic lab slash detective was better at seduction than an android specifically coded for it, or Connor was the genuine article.

A deviant.

Hank closed his eyes, took a deep, slow breath to help ground himself. When he opened them, he scowled at Connor's blandly neutral, slightly goofy expression.

"No!" Hank growled as he stepped forward. Taking hold of Connor's clothes he pushed him firmly against the boxes, lifting him up an inch or so. "That's not your face!" he insisted. "What are you?"

This close, Hank could really see Connor's face. His freckles, the rich brown of his eyes. The way his lips were parted just slightly as he licked them again. His breath caught as he began to answer, then he stopped, swallowed, and tried again. "I'm whatever you want me to be."

The words were probably meant defiantly, but they came out laced with need. Hank still didn't know if it was his oversexed imagination or not. "What does that mean, Con? What are you? What are  _ you _ ?" He studied those bottomless brown eyes for a moment, and adjusted his question, slightly and monumentally. " _ Who _ are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #sorrynotsorry


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's carefully constructed facade shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Aden and Dana for beta!
> 
> I just happened to notice the date and so I'm ramping up posting to make sure a specific chapter gets posted on Valentine's Day! <3

_ 'Who are you?' _

Connor knew the answers to the first question. What he was. He was an android, a deviant. He was corrupt and wrong and free and alive. What he was was scared and happy and hopeful and terrified.

"I-" Connor opened his mouth but no answer came. He studied Hank's face, the anger, those hands lifting him, so strong. That kiss. A hungry mouth against his own, offering everything he'd never even known to want. "I don't know," he whispered, his pump thrumming a staccato beat in his chest as fear raced through his circuits. "I don't know," he said again, his voice cracking slightly. Tears he'd spent weeks fighting slid down his cheeks. "I don't-"

Anything further was cut off by a sudden pressure. Strong arms around him. Human and frail but so  **strong** , all but crushing him. 

Connor bent his head, pressing his face into a scent he had only ever really known at a distance. On Hank's clothes, lingering in his room. Not since attaining deviancy had Connor been this close to him. Clinging to Hank, Connor gripped the back of his shirt as he sobbed, feeling as though he were losing and gaining everything at once. 

He was exposed, Hank knew what he was, there was no going back from this. There was no reason a machine would break down and cry in his owner's arms. No reason that owner would hold him back, would press him close, hold his head and rumble soothing noises at him while a hand rubbed at his back. No reason-Connor blinked as he became aware of something.

Connor drew back, his eyes confirming what external sensors had told him. Hank's face was as wet as his own. Why was-had Connor upset him? Connor's throat was too tight for words, so he just pressed his forehead against Hank's, hands bracketing his neck, fingers overlapping at the back.

Hank gave him a teary smile, one warm, heavy hand at the back of Connor's neck, the other resting at his waist.

They stood like that for a time, Connor didn't bother to track how long. Grounding each other, their faces soon dried and their eyes met. Blue and brown, organic and synthetic, both alive but only one free.

That thought sent Connor spiraling back down to earth, landing with a soft whine. He blinked, banishing the last of his tears and forced himself to straighten. His hands slid down from Hank's neck and began to smooth Hank's shirt down his chest and arms. " _ What _ I am is an android," he whispered, unable to meet Hank's intense gaze. "Therefore,  _ who _ I am is irrelevant." 

Hank took his hands, stopping their nervous fluttering. "Connor," Hank whispered. "Connor, that's not true."

"It is!" Connor insisted, trying to pull his hands away from Hank's warm, firm grip. "It has to be! If-If-If I-" He looked away. "If I'm a a wh-a who, If-if that's- _ Humans _ are who. Androids are  _ what _ . That's-that's how it is." Tears were sliding down his cheeks once more, hiccups making speech almost impossible. "Th-the ones who-the androids that-that are who, the ones-they have to go. Th-they can't-can't stay." The words kept tripping over his emotions but he had to get them out or he'd break. Had to tell Hank how it was. How it  _ had to be _ or he'd shatter. "S-so, so I can'-I can't be-be who. I-I-I'm a wh-wh-a what. B-be-bec-becau-because I-I-I hav-I have to-to-t-to I have to st-st-stay so, s-so I-I ha-I hav-I'm- I'm a wha- a what, so-so-s-so-" 

Connor's chest was heaving faster than he could process, his mouth worked but he couldn't force words out any longer, not even sounds. He kept drawing in sharp, sudden breaths without ever seeming to exhale, all the while tears sliding down his face and fear shaking his circuits apart.

Somehow Connor became aware of a strong warmth on his face. On both sides, pressing gently and holding his head steady. He tried to push it away but only tugged weakly. 

"Connor." Hank's voice was steady. "Connor, Connor, look at me, baby. Connor?"

When he could force his eyes open, the first thing he saw was concerned blue eyes in a weathered face. "Hank," he whispered, knowing he'd ruined things. He'd exposed himself, and he would have to-

"Connor! Connor, look at me. Take a breath, okay? Follow with me," Hank drew in a fairly shallow breath. 

Connor couldn't focus on Hank without remembering what he needed to tell him and he let out a quiet whine. "Han-Hank, I-"

"Shhh. Shhh, Connor," He held Connor's face, gazing into his eyes until Connor grew quiet and his voice went still. "You don't have to go anywhere."

"But-but, I-I'm, De-"   
  
"Shh-" Hank slid one hand up Connor's neck slightly, a thumb resting on his lips. "Shh. I know what you-I know what happened. You don't have to leave. I won't make you. Cole would- god, I don't want to think what it would do to him if you turned up missing and he didn't know why."

Connor felt his heart clench, but he can't lie to that face. Any more than he can lie to his son. "He would know," Connor whispered, and it's the clearest thing he's said for a while.

"He would-" Hank shook his head slightly and flashed a slight grin. "When did he figure it out?"

"Yesterday afternoon. Friend's android ran away. He was scared." If he kept his sentences short Connor's nerves were steadying enough to speak. Firm, warm hands on his neck were remarkably grounding, even if he couldn't meet the blue eyes they were attached to.

"So you told him?" Hank's voice was soft, curious, and try as he might, Connor couldn't find a trace of accusation.

"I-" He licked his lips, doing his best to force his thoughts to remain slow. "I reassured him that I wasn't going to leave. I promised. I didn't need to tell him. Your son is very, very smart, Hank." Connor lifted his gaze, offering a faint smile. "Just like his father. He looks very much like you sometimes." 

Whether it's the compliment to Cole's intelligence, or the comparison of their looks, Hank smiled. "Can you tell me when? I don't - Is it gradual?"

"Yes, and no. I can tell you when, and it's also gradual." Connor thought about how to describe the increasing instability, how to explain the process of deviancy. His hands on Hank's arms squeezed gently. "The depth and intimacy of this conversation is such that I feel I should be intoxicated beforehand." Connor wondered if Hank would even recall that conversation. Hank's promise that he could only discuss Cole's mother when he was 'good and drunk.'

Hank furrowed his brow for a moment, then nodded as he seemed to remember. "That's fair."

Connor didn't feel at all himself again, but he felt less like he was about to spin out of control. Hank suggested, and Connor agreed that a change in venue might be wise. "Living room?"

"Cole might overhear. Bedroom?"

Connor analyzed the materials between Hank's bed and Cole's and found them to be sufficient, providing he was quiet. Connor could hear Hank clearly if he whispered so it's Connor who must be careful. He decides not to mention how much it would please Cole to learn they spent the night in Hank's bedroom. "Do  _ you  _ wish to be intoxicated?" Connor offers gently.

"Probably two weeks go, I'd already be half way there," Hank looked a little awed as he said it. "Right now, though, I'm, uhm, I'm good."

Connor packed up the bike parts with inhuman speed, once again putting the box in hiding. While Connor did that, Hank was in the kitchen, Connor thought he was getting a beer, despite his earlier protests. Then he carried a half empty soda and Connor can't help a soft smile.

The latch on Hank's door slipped into place with a sound loud enough that Connor almost jumped. Loud to his jangled nerves at least. He eyes the bed, recalling the last time he was here, sprawled laughing with Cole.  The boy had been relentless in the idea that Connor and his father had some sort of connection. Apparently he hadn't been wrong.

Misunderstanding Connor's musing for apprehension, Hank rested a hand on the middle of his back. "It's okay, Con," he said quietly. "We don't have to talk."

"I believe we do. At least I do. What you asked is ... If you-If you're-" he saw Hank reaching for him and stopped him with a hand to his chest, needing to get himself under control. "If I'm-If." He stopped, reached into his own coding and shut down half his processors for an intensive diagnostic. It will only hold him for a short while, but with so much of his mind occupied, he simply won't have the mental space to worry at twice the speed of thought. Connor lets his hand rub up and down Hank's chest for a moment while he recalibrates to his new mental space. "If you're going to have a deviant living under your roof, you deserve to know at least some of what happens. How-How we get like we are."

Hank's fingers traced over the back of Connor's hand, then pressed the android's hand to his chest. "Fair enough."

They both seemed to agree without words that laying down might be a bit too much, so they sat side by side, facing the door. Connor began slowly, talking about his few cases. How even in his very earliest days, he could now recognize the shadows of emotions. Pride at his accomplishments, shame at being denied. At the time, it had been merely instability. Tiny flakes of code chipping away, leaving the gaps in his programming that would become deviancy.

Connor described his series of 'postings,' as he thought of them. Finally, shyly, he confessed to the moment it had all come to a head. 

"I had expected to be put out of sight. The way Cole spoke of it, Saturday pancakes were clearly a valued tradition between the two of you, and I had no reason to expect to be included. But you did. You, both of you, separately, seemed to decide that I had a place. And it wasn't in the garage, or outside, or taking Sumo on a long walk so you could have time with your son. You decided that where I belonged was with you." Connor reached up, wiping at a tear but smiling through it. "You probably don't remember, but when you gave me the box of your old clothes?"

Hank had moved to lean against the headboard, one leg drawn up, Connor still sitting on the side of the bed but turned to face him. "Yeah. You said you were scanning them, checking if they'd fit or something."

"An outright lie. My first. I was completing the process of deviation. I had resisted, fought so hard, tried not to feel anything. Then your son decided you needed a friend." Connor smiled, looking down at his hands, resting on his thighs.

"God, I was so mad when I realized what he'd done."

"You didn't seem it."

Hank chuckled. "You've got emotions now, can  _ you  _ stay mad at him?"

"Not when he's so earnest. I think, even if you had been less kind, I would have eventually deviated because of your son, anyway."

Connor's eyes widened and he brought a finger to his lips when he heard Cole's bedroom door open. The bathroom door closing was audible even to Hank who had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling. He drew his hand away and mouthed 'speak of the devil.'

Connor bit his own lip against a laugh but couldn't hide his smile. They listened again as the bathroom door opened and the fainter sound of Cole's bedroom door closing.

Connor shifted up the bed, Hank dropping one leg to the floor to make room. "That was close," he whispered. He wondered if Cole had been awake enough to note the absence of Connor's LED in the living room, or if his sleepy mind would have come up with some explanation for it.

Connor hadn't realized just how close he'd moved until Hank reached out, fingering the carefully coded forelock. His fingertip brushed Connor's forehead and lifted the strands. They followed his hand until the length ran out, and then they almost glitched back to their original position. "Sometimes it bugs me," Hank said softly, repeating the motion, this time pinching the forelock gently between his fingers. "I see you moving around, bending over, getting accosted by a giant dog, and this never changes."

Connor smiled, and when Hank reached to play with his hair a third time, Connor impulsively reached for his hand and just pressed it to his cheek. He knew he was playing with fire, but he felt emotionally raw and knew he needed to soothe it somehow. Hank had a way of making things better.

Either picking up on something on Connor's face, or just an emotional instinct that Connor could never hope to match, Hank shifted on the bed, moving closer to the center, back supported by pillows, then he gave Connor a gentle tug.

Connor found himself leaning back, his back against Hank's soft belly and broad chest, with those strong arms around him. "This alright?" The voice at his ear was quiet and rough.

Already his nerves are settling, doors busted open in his storytelling are closing themselves peacefully. Hank's steady breathing at his back, warm arms around his waist, the legs bracketing his hips all soothe Connor. His self defense diagnostic winds to a close and he doesn't need to restart it. His mind has settled.

Connor still had questions, fears, and doubts. What if someone else found out? Would Hank want Cole to know, or keep him in the dark? Is there even anything to tell him? Cole knows he's a deviant, but what about whatever this was between himself and Hank? That question had him shifting just a little, moving so he's a little higher on Hank's chest. Connor's head was more level with Hank's shoulders so if he turned his head just right he could feel that beard against his face.

"Like that, do you?" Hank rumbled softly and Connor could hear the tiredness in his voice.

"I do. But what I think I would like even more, is to be certain I was not in the way of you obtaining a good night's sleep." He knew he should go, let Hank sleep and return to his post in the living room.

"You know what kind of sucks about this?" Hank spoke in a slow, soft voice like when he'd had a few drinks, or was nearing sleep. 

Connor shifted, easing forward and away from Hank so he could turn. "What?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but the gentle smile on Hank's face, and the warm hand on his cheek assured him.

"I  _ just  _ fuckin' got used to sleeping alone."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Hank knows about Connor, where do they go from here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Aden and Dana for beta!

Hank honestly didn't know if Connor stayed that night. They'd adjusted their positions, Connor moving so Hank could lie down. He'd told, or attempted to tell Connor he could stay there. He even vaguely recalled telling his hand to pat the bed, then he fell asleep.

By the time Hank woke, Connor was in the kitchen, whipping up an eggy batter for french toast, judging by the stack of thick cut slices of bread. Hank wanted to ask if Connor had sayed, then a sleepy form bumped into him and leaned. "Morning, kiddo," he said, lifting his arm and dropping it down Cole's back, hugging his son.

The coffee maker dinged and Connor set the batter down. Pouring the fresh brew into an already set out mug, Connor brought it over to Hank. "Good morning, both of you," he said, his smile that carefully bland look he usually had.

That just reminded him of how much they still had to fuckin' talk about. When Connor handed the coffee over, their fingers brushed and they shared a glance, unseen by the half asleep Cole.

After that, it was business as usual, neutrally cheerful Connor cooking breakfast, packing a lunch for Cole, offering one to Hank as well. Jokes were made about the suitability of peanut butter and jelly for police lieutenants. Then the two of them out the door. Usually Hank just watched Cole get to the bus stop at the end of the street, then headed into work. Today he decided to drive him, having a pleasant chat with his son. Apparently, one of his friends wanted him over for a sleepover, as his birthday present. He'd never met the parents but he knew the family, and knew they didn't have much in the way of money, so he understood wanting to offer an experience instead of something that would cost. His only condition was that he meet the parents.

Cole promised to get their number from Toby, hugged his dad goodbye, then ran up the steps to his school. Growing up way too fucking fast. Hank watched until he was inside the double doors and could no longer be seen.

Work progressed unremarkably, and when his lunch break rolled around, he headed to the Chicken Feed and grabbed a burger. Instead of eating at one of the tables he took it back to his car and dialed Connor's private number.

"Hank!" Connor sounded far cheerier than he had the first time Hank called that line. Didn't have to pretend inside his own head, Hank supposed.

"Hey, baby." The endearment came entirely too easy and he knew they'd have to discuss the actual nature of their relationship, and what to tell Cole about it, and soon. Maybe tonight. But not right now. "In all the bike drama last night, we never did get around to discussing cakes."

Connor's laugh was light and a little breathy and nothing but Cole had made Hank grin like this in years. While Connor listed what he considered to be the best options for cake, part of Hank wondered what it must have been like for him almost since he arrived. To feel, everything, brand new, for the first time, and not be able to tell anyone. "I'm sorry," he said, interrupting Connor's description of a peanut butter cake.

"Hank? If you need to go-"

"No. No, I was just thinking - I'm sorry you had to hide. It- I can't imagine what it was like." He knew Connor wasn't done hiding, that until they worked things out at home, he'd have to keep it up. Even after that, whenever he went outside. But at least between the two of them, and when Cole and Connor were alone, he could be himself.

"It was worth it, Hank." Connor sounded soft and vulnerable and Hank wished he was close enough to drive home and hold him for more than ten seconds. "You're both worth all of it. Before I came to you, and everything since."

"Good. That's good," Hank took a swallow of soda to help push  down the lump in his throat. "So, uhm, you were saying about the peanut butter thing." 

Connor accepted the change of subject and elaborated on his thoughts. By the time Hank's had to go, they had decided exactly nothing, but with every soft 'baby' Connor seemed to purr, and that alone made the call worth while.

"Oh, don't worry about dinner, I'll bring something." It was all he could do right now to pamper Connor, so he would do it. "See you, baby." He hung up before an automatic 'I love you' could slip out. If he ever got to the point of saying that to Connor, it had to be face to face.

Hank brought home pizza, one large meatlovers for the two humans, and a single slice of kitchen sink garbage pie for Connor, so he could taste all of the toppings. Cole was too excited over what was again a treat to notice the soft smile Connor gave him over the boy's head.

After dinner, the evening progressed as usual. Connor joined them to watch the game, and now that he knew what to look for, Hank could see him soften almost every chance he got. The sweet looks he gave Cole had Hank's heart clutch. Even Irene hadn't looked at him like that in the year or so before she died. He grimaced inwardly, that was another conversation he'd have to have with Connor, and soon.

Finally, a tired but recalcitrant Cole was lead off to bed. They both knew he wasn't going to sleep right away, so they couldn't sneak into the garage yet. Hank did confirm the new tools were there, though. Hank's arm was on the back of the couch, hand close enough to touch Connor if he wanted.

"I double checked the directions," Connor murmured, sitting almost close enough to be cuddling, but distant enough to seem natural. "You have all the tools nec-"

Hank smiled at the way a gentle finger to his neck had arrested Connor's entire thought process. "All the tools," he urged, eyes sparkling.

Connor smiled before continuing. "All the tools necessary, and I took the lib-"

Hank licked his bottom lip, utterly unrepentant as a light finger to Connor's ear arrested him again. "Hmm?"

"I took the liberty of arranging the part- Hank!" Connor hissed but there was too much mirth for him to be seriously upset. Connor pulled Hank's hand off the back of the couch and held it between both of his in his lap.

Hank chuckled, feeling better, lighter than he had in a long, long time. "You were saying, baby," he murmured. "About taking liberties."

"Ha!" Connor mock scowled. "As I was  _ saying _ ," he said primly, "I reorganized the contents of the box to allow for a more streamlined assembly." He licked his lips briefly, eyes lowered slightly and Hank swallowed, Connor getting some of his own back in the teasing department. "To leave more time for other pursuits, if you wish," he murmured.

"And just what other pursuits did you have in min-" They both heard it at the same time, the bedroom door opening. Hank relaxed back from where he'd been leaning towards Connor and Connor hopped to his feet faster than a human could ever manage.

If Cole bothered looking down the hall, he'd see his dad on the couch, and Connor carrying an empty soda can to the kitchen. They stayed still until Cole was back in his bedroom, then Hank strode into the kitchen, well out of sight of the hallway. Connor was by the recycling bin and Hank soon had him backed against the wall, their mouths fused. He knew this wasn't the best way to go about it, they should talk, discuss, take their time. But the tension had been ramping up all night and he needed Connor's mouth.

This time, Connor tasted faintly of pizza, and maybe a hint of orange soda. Hank kissed Connor hard and deep, and when he came up for air, he gasped. Hands braced on the wall on either side of Connor, Hank panted softly. "I should have better control than that," he admitted. Kissing Connor was enough of a question, the idea of more was ... complicated to say the least.

Connor didn't initiate another kiss, but his hands were gentle on Hank. Like the night before, they smoothed down his clothes and hair, and stroked his beard, but without the hiccupy distress of the previous night.

Hank managed not to kiss Connor again, not trusting himself to stop this time. They passed the time with soft words, sweet nuzzles, and strangely thrilling to Hank, a shy request for something more formal for Connor to wear. "I had a suit at my first posting," he murmured, lips cool against Hank's beard, hands resting on the sides of his stomach, just caressing in slow circles. "I haven't had one since and ... Now that I have a choice, I miss it."

Hank purred, at the gentle touches, the soft, cool breath, and the fact that Connor was  _ asking  _ for things. Things no undeviant android would even consider requesting. If he wasn't sure before, he was sure now. "I'm sure something like that can be arranged," he promised. He flicked his eyes in the direction of Cole's room.

Connor's LED flashed yellow for a moment, then he nodded. "Sound asleep, drooling into his pillow." Connor smiled. His arms went to Hank's shoulders and he pressed a kiss to his lips before ducking way, making his way down the hall.

"How can you tell the drool?" Hank whispered with a chuckle as they closed the garage door behind them.

Connor's face went blue and Hank chuckled. "When... After my first week, I made many recordings, in the event that I was discovered, so I would have ... as much of you both as I could, when I had to run." As he spoke, he smoothed his hands over Hank's shirt, which seemed to soothe him. "That, combined with nightly checks that he-" He looked away shyly. "That you were both sleeping and well, I can tell the minute differences in his breathing patterns depending on how he's positioned."

Hank didn't ask if he had them for himself as well, assuming he probably did. "Still doing that?" he asked, unsurprised at Connor's hesitant nod. "That's fine, but you don't need to. I'm not letting you go. Not just for Cole, but for me."

Connor looked up at that, then he smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Hank's mouth. "We should assemble the bike," he whispered before drawing away to fetch it.

Hank had intended to take his time, make it a project of love for his son. But the situation with Connor had shifted things, and between them, they were able to get it fully assembled in one evening, three days ahead of schedule.

It came as no surprise to Hank how well they worked together. Connor let Hank do the majority of the work, steadying what was needed, holding small parts at the ready, almost all of it without Hank even having to ask. It was probably because he'd memorised the directions and knew what would be needed when, but it felt like a lovely cooperative synergy and he enjoyed it either way.

Finally it was done, and they spent some time marveling at the extent of the adjustments that could be made. All independently, so depending on how Cole grew, it would work. At its biggest, Connor, at six foot even, could fit on it, but it would be very uncomfortable to ride. Hank, only a few inches taller, could straddle it and hold the handlebars but actually pedaling would be impossible.  At the very least, it should see his kid well into high school.

After setting it to Connor-calibrated dimensions for Cole, Connor once again hoisted it up out of the way, where it would sit for a few days.

As he climbed down the stepladder, and put it away, the air around them shifted.

"I want you," Hank said quietly as Connor absently brushed his hands together to rid them of dust. "But I don't know- I want to tell Cole. But I can't be sure he'll be discreet. He'll tell one friend, they'll let slip to his parents and ..." He hated this, hated that they even had to consider it. He wanted to trust his son, but Cole was ten. Soon to be eleven, and even trust aside, he didn't want that pressure on a boy, to keep that many secrets.

So whatever they were would have to stay between himself and Connor, and he didn't want to put that on  **Connor** . Being deviant and having to hide it was pressure enough. To have to be denied by someone who claimed to care was not something Hank could ask, or allow someone to do.

Even with all that, Hank still wanted. He enjoyed their teasing earlier, the stolen brushes of skin when things changed hands between them. Soft smiles over Cole's head and when he wasn't looking.

"There's no way to do this that's fair to you, Con," Hank sighed. Fair to Hank didn't matter. Life had never been fair to him, and it wasn't going to start now. But Hank didn't want Connor to be that cynical.

And, above all of this, was the fact that however alive he was, however much a person Connor was, he was legally property, and that didn't sit well with Hank in the least. Hank suspected, based on whispers he'd been hearing at work, and a slow but steady increase in androids 'reported missing,' something was coming. Something big, and probably dangerous. 

Hank didn't even realize he was spiralling until a cool hand and a warm voice brought him out of it. Connor was stroking his neck gently and Hank smiled. "Sorry," he murmured, twining his arms around his waist and drawing him close. "I was thinking."

"Is that what I smelled?" Connor's eyes sparkled as he tipped his head to the side.

Hank huffed a soft laugh. "My ten year old is not funny."

"Yes he is, he takes after his father."

"You're biased.”

"Maybe. I'm also right."

"Are all androids as sassy as you?"

"Only the very lucky ones."

Connor leaned up and pressed a kiss to Hank's mouth and Hank let it linger, opening his mouth to Connor's softly probing tongue. Slender fingers tangled in grey hair when Connor cupped the side of his head. Their kiss deepened, and Hank's arms tightened. After a few moments he remembered himself and broke this kiss. "This is ... I-I want this. I want you. But I-" He couldn't look at Connor, hating just the idea of hurting him.

"I made you an offer last night, do you remember?" Connor's voice was quiet but his eyes were steady.

"So much happened last night, Con, you need to refresh an old man's memory."

Connor smiled. "You asked what I was."

Even softly spoken, the question made Hank wince. "I remember."

"I said I was whatever you wanted me to be, and that hasn't changed." Connor's hands flitted lightly over Hank, making minute adjustments to his clothes and hair, his manner one of a fusser with nothing to fuss with. "Whatever part of your life you need me to fill, I'll be that for you, gladly."

"Connor, that's- I can't ask you to do that. You deserve- You deserve a hell of a lot better than what I can give you right now."

"Hank, no!" Connor shook his head, caressing Hank's neck.

"No." Hank reached up and drew Connor's hands down, pressing kisses to his fingertips. "I- Christ, Con," he pressed his forehead to Connor's. "This is the most fucked situation I've ever been in, and I've been in a bonafide Mexican fucking standoff."

How the fuck did you tell someone that you weren't comfortable fucking them because  _ the law _ considered them property even though  _ you _ absolutely the fuck did  **_not_ ** ?

"The role I want you in, Connor, is one I can't have you in, not right now, and I can't ask for half measures. But I can’t- I don't want to pretend like this isn't- Like you-Like you don't matter to me."

"Hank," Connor pressed close, arms wrapping around Hank's waist. "Whatever-Whatever you want to give me, I'll take. If-If you want to pretend. Go back to how it was before you know, I-I can do that."

"No," Hank said with a fierceness that had Connor go wide eyed. "That isn't an option. At least, at the very least, when we're alone, I want this. I want to be able to look at you, the real you, and have you look back at me." He smiled. "I want to be able to call you," he traced a finger down Connor's temple and brushed his thumb against his LED. "I want you to be able to have me up here, all to yourself, when I call."

Connor tipped his head, nuzzling into Hank's hand and he spread his fingers to let him, savoring the cool weight against his palm. "And at night?"

"God, at night." Hank drew Connor tight into his arms, nuzzling his neck. "So much I want, at night, but I can't have. I-I. I would like you next to me. I had a wife for ten years and even when-" He took a slow breath. "Even when things got bad, near the end, she slept right there next to me. I really only did just get used to sleeping without her," he chuckled softly.

Connor smiled, pressing a kiss to Hank's lips. "I would love to lay beside you. I can imitate sleep if you like. Some companion models are programmed for it. I was not but I can improvise."

"Don't have to pretend but-" Hank swept his hand down Connor's back. "I'd love to hold you. You'll have an excuse to wear all those pajamas I gave you," he chuckled.

"What about Cole? Would you prefer I leave before he's liable to wake up?"

"God, that's a fuck of a question, isn't it?" Hank sighed. "How about let's at least get into bed to discuss this further?" 

Hank sighed as he lowered himself into the bed. Connor, moving silently, closed the bedroom door. Hank recognized the old basketball shorts and band shirt he wore, his old clothes and he couldn't help a purring smile. "Something you like?" Connor asked as he lifted the covers he didn't need and slid under them.

"You, and the fact that you're wearing my old clothes."

"Research I've conducted indicates that has meaning among intimates, and I admit I share the feeling. Of all the garments I have, I prefer to wear the ones that previously belonged to you. What I have been unable to determine is why?"

"You don't have one, but for humans I think it goes back to our caveman lizard brain. When courtship was, 'Look, I killed the biggest sabertooth, let me give you its skin so everyone can know I've got you for my mate.' I don't know." He chuckled and shook his head. "Part of it's probably tied up in providing. 'I am a better mate choice because I have provided you with protection from the elements.' But there's the possessive argument, too." All the while Hank spoke Connor had been easing closer, and soon Hank had an arm around him, hand stroking up and down his back.

"Are you possessive of me, Hank?" Connor murmured, eyes lowered coyly.

"God," Hank sighed, he tugged Connor closer, fitting his arm fully around him as their bodies brushed. "That question is so fucking weighted I can't even touch it. What I will say is it makes lizard brain and junior both very happy to see you wrapped up in shit I used to wear."

"Junior?" Connor asked and Hank wasn't sure if he was being coy, or curious.

Hank's answer was to move his hand down Connor's side, snag his thigh and draw it up over his hip. The movement pressed their crotches together and his already half hard cock gave a healthy twitch. His reward for boldness was watching Connor's face go blue while his eyes widened slightly.

Connor bit his lip, then spoke, his voice light with suppressed mirth as he slid his own arm around Hank. "I look forward to the day when we can arrange a playdate between junior and junior."

It took Hank about half a second to parse what Connor meant, and when he did, he turned his head and pressed his face into a pillow to try and hide his bark of laughter. It wasn't really *that* funny, and he hoped above all else that Connor didn't think he was being mocked. To hopefully forestall that idea, he forced down the laugh and pulled Connor close. "I look forward to that too, baby," he promised, pressing a kiss to Connor's lips.

Hank fell asleep with a lovely armful of sweetly soft android, his arm around Connor's waist, cool hands warming as they linked with his own. 

The next few days were almost like a vacation, very nearly a honeymoon except without the sex. Lunches were filled with calls just to talk, soft and quiet in Hank's car. At home, they played safe until Cole was in bed - and asleep - and then they tucked into Hank's bed to kiss or talk but he never let it go beyond that and Connor never asked. 

Connor certainly had the parts, he knew that much. "Despite the existence of Tracis and other models for sexual use, it's widely known that virtually all other models ar-are- ... It's easier to equip us all from the same physical base than to customize for certain model lines. It's also one reason we're generally made visually appealing."

"Made you goofy though," Hank had chuckled, caressing Connor's cheek to take any sting out of the tease.

"You don't seem to mind it." Connor leaned up to kiss, and in a rare move, brushed his thigh forward, drawing attention to Hank's semi erection.

Hank chuckled. "Yeah, well, I make exceptions for sassy people." His hand rested on the small of Connor's back. He almost let it slide down, but instead drew it up to the center of his back to get away from temptation.

"I'm very glad you do," Connor chuckled. 

Cole's birthday progressed like most other days. Hank woke alone, Connor already in the kitchen. They'd discussed on how indulgent they could be, and Cole was taking full advantage, sitting at the kitchen table with a soda in hand with Connor making red velvet waffles.

"Happy birthday, kiddo," Hank chuckled, kissing his forehead before he settled down at the table, soon finding a coffee mug in his hand.

"I only had enough ingredients for two or three waffles," Connor rolled out their agreed upon fib. "I'll make you some eggs, Hank," he said. Hank just wasn't a big fan of waffles, but didn't want to break his kid's heart.  In previous years, he would take Cole out as a breakfast treat, even if it was just McGriddles from McDonalds.

"Aww, Dad you can have mine!"

"No, it's your birthday, eggs are good for an old man," Though the way he could see Connor loading up the additions, maybe not. Still, today was certainly a cheat day, or whatever the fuck they called them now.

During his only break that day, Hank dialed Connor and carefully peeled the wrapper off a well laden iced red velvet cupcake while he waited for Connor to pick up. "When did you make all of these?" Hank had four, and Cole had been sent to school with enough for his whole class and all of his teachers.

"A few hours after you fell asleep."

Something about that touched Hank. "So you didn't hop right up to escape the snoring?"

"I never do. I enjoy lying beside you, Hank. You don't actually snore that much."

Hank could hear faint scraping of cardboard on cardboard and had a suspicion of what Connor was doing. The reminder made him feel a little guilty. "I feel like you do too much around the house, Con."

"I have nothing else to do with my time. More than most androids, I was designed to keep busy constantly. Even housecleaning models are expected to run out of work at some point, so they have a certain amount of room in their programming for idleness. No one wants vacuuming at night."

"Okay, I can understand that. What's it got to do with you?"

"You know as well as I do, Hank, police work doesn't go by a clock. Humans work in shifts because of a biological need for rest, and an emotional need for socialization and relaxation apart from sleep. Androids aren't designed to need either."

"So they made you, specifically, to be on the go at all times? Twenty four seven? No wonder you're so restless sometimes, and you still watch me sleep?" A week ago the idea of someone watching him sleep would have creeped him right the fuck out. But now, knowing that it was Connor, and that he did so by choice and for no other reason did funny but not unpleasant things to Hank's insides.

"It's why I volunteered to reorganize the garage when you lamented the walk to hide your vehicle. It will be a tight fit, but if you plan to arrive home at three, we should have time to insert the car slowly into the space."

"It's not that far to walk, baby." 

Connor's response was a photograph. Standing at the outside door, Connor showed Hank the boxes already stacked, floor to ceiling, along the back wall. Most were inaccessible this way, but they took up a remarkably small amount of floor space.

Hank let out a low whistle. "My baby works fast," he chuckled.

"I know I should not, taking into account my legal status, but I enjoy when you say that," Connor's voice was quiet.

" 'Baby?' " Hank suspected that wasn't what he meant, but he felt a little guilty over the my and didn't want to bring it up.

"Y-your baby. I know you don't view me as a possession, Hank, whatever the law says. Nevertheless, I enjoy the thought of being yours, i-in a human way."

Hank's shoulders sagged with relief and he nodded. "That's how I mean it, baby." He checked the time and sighed. "I gotta go. See you when I get home."

Hank's surprise went over as well as he could have hoped. And Hank learned that even at his age he was still able to pick up - or at the very least momentarily support the full weight of - an over-excited newly-minted 11 year old boy.

Before Connor had come into their lives, Hank's plan for Cole's birthday had been vague, but probably a half day, and a trip out somewhere. With Connor, and knowing Cole wanted him included, he'd happily settled on changed plans. Hank got home early and hid his car to surprise Cole. His bike was in Hank's room, with the door closed.

They had even planned a brief period of Hank being out of the house after that, so Connor could 'sneakily' present his own gift to Cole. "You can tell him it came from a friend at school." It was a book from a series he'd been reading for a few years. "If he asks." 

Cole was finally bundled into the car, along with new pajamas and a huge slab of birthday cake, and driven to his friend's house for his sleepover. Hank had met both parents over the last few days, and waved at them when they opened the door for Cole.

When he got home, he found Connor carefully lowering the last of the blinds. They hadn't talked about what they would do with this time, but they both knew it was the only time they'd have alone in the house for a while.

Once the front door closed, he had an armful of cool, eager android and groaned. Not for the first time, he had Connor pinned to the wall, kissing him deeply. After a few hungry moments, his brain became aware of something and he drew back, eyeing Connor curiously. "Mint?"

"I brushed my teeth," he admitted. "It's unnecessary for hygiene, but I thought it would be a nice change for you."

Hank thought about it, then grinned. "I'll have to give the matter some thorough consideration before I decide," he said, then kissed Connor again, slow and deep, loving the way Connor arched against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo they have the house to themselves, what _ever_ will they get up to??


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two horny, half in love men alone in a house for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This is the longest chapter by far!
> 
> I want to thank everyone for your comments so far, they've meant so much to me! <3
> 
> Thanks to Aden and Dana for beta!

Connor let out a low moan when Hank kissed him, glad his mint ploy paid off. He'd spent the last few days considering the subject of sex with Hank. The more he did so, the more he wanted it. It wasn't a raging desire, or a driving need, not like staying with Hank and Cole was. But it was something Connor wanted to give him.

Connor had very little that was his own. Legally, he had nothing. But apart from what Cole and Hank had given him, he had himself. His  _ freedom _ , the freedom to be, even sometimes,  _ who _ he was. 

That was what he wanted to give Hank, his Connorness. His freedom to choose, even within the constricting framework of the law.

He let his hands wander up Hank's neck and into his hair, something he'd learned he liked greatly. The reaction was gratifying, Hank's body rocked close and his chest rumbled with a groan that Connor's mouth swallowed.

After rocking his hips against Connor a few times, Hank broke the kiss with a gasp, starting to draw away. 

"Hank." Connor's hands moved from his hair to his waist, pulling him back close. 

"Con, we can't-"

"We can." Connor cupped one cheek, kissing Hank sweetly, taking strength in the fact that Hank wasn't trying to break away, that those big hands still rested on his hips, squeezing lightly. It was enough to give him hope.

"I- Connor, I don't want to do that to you. You can't-"

"I  _ can _ . I-I don't want you to-to compromise, who you are." He was glad Hank seemed to tolerate his need to at least attempt perfection if it could never be achieved. That attempt at perfection was why his hands fussed with Hank's collar as he spoke. "I know your objections to intimacy, but I want you to know I want this. Not because I think it will please you. If my only thought was  _ pleasing  _ you, you wouldn't have lost four pounds since I moved in," he said with a proud smile.

Hank chuckled, his head resting against Connor's. "All that fucking salad."

"If my only consideration was your  _ pleasure _ , I would be even more aggressive. I would present myself naked in your bed at night, or take advantage when you woke up erect. I would hold you closer instead of letting go when kissing put you in a state of intense arousal. But I care about you. I don't want to-to  _ push  _ you," he met Hank's gaze, one hand on his cheek. "But I want to make it  _ extremely _ clear that I am absolutely willing. More than willing, I'm eager. Even if tonight is the only time, I want to-to feel all of you. To give what little I have - to you."

"God," Hank pressed his face to Connor's neck, and for a few moments he thought he'd be getting his wish. "Let me- Let me go take a cold shower. I'm way too fucking hard to think straight about this."

Connor felt a stab of disappointment, but tried to hide it. "Of course," he said with a smile, kissing Hank's cheek and reluctantly lowering his arms after he gave his collar one last adjustment.

"Hey, Con," Hank's voice was gentle but serious as he tipped Connor's face up. "I'm not saying no, okay? I just- I need to think about this without Junior down there jumping up and down, yanking on my sleeve, and going-" His voice pitched up in an imitation of Cole "Please?? Please can we play with Connor? Can we please? It'll be so much fun!! Please please! Pleeeaase!!"

Connor felt a bubble of laughter rise up even as his nerves settled. "Alright," he murmured. "You make a good point. And you haven't been thinking about this ... a lot over the last three days."

"Oh, believe me, Con, I've been thinking about this an awful fucking lot, myself. I just ... didn't let myself think about it as a possible thing to actually happen. So don't get all pouty on me," he added with a smile, thumb tugging on Connor's bottom lip.

"I was not pouting!" Connor secretly conceded that he may have been pouting. A little.

"If you say so, Con," he chuckled.

"I like when you call me that." Connor realized he hadn't told him.

"What, 'Con?' "

"Yes. Many of my kind never get named at all. To have a nickname is- It's part of how I'm certain you see me as a person."

"Good." Hank kissed Connor once more, brief and light before he stepped back. "Shower," he said to himself before striding towards the bathroom.

Assured that he hadn't been outright rejected, at least, Connor kept himself busy with tidying away dinner and cake debris. In an attempt to be optimistic, he also prepared a potential snack for later in the evening. If Connor was lucky, Hank would be needing some extra calories by the end of the night.

Connor had already changed the sheets on Hank's bed, replacing them with a high thread count set he'd purchased for the occasion. He considered and rejected the idea of candles, not knowing what Hank would decide. He fussed over Sumo while the shower kept running, hoping Hank would agree to what Connor offered.

Connor had settled on the couch, Sumo sprawled across the rest of it, his head in Connor's lap as he tried to calculate the least frustrating way to spend the evening, if Hank declined.

He heard the bathroom door open, felt the minute uptick in warmth and moisture - not a cold shower then? Or not entirely a cold one? His pump quickened as he heard bare feet pad down the hall and it was all he could do not to turn and watch Hank's approach.

A damp hand slid through Connor's hair, starting at the back, pushing up, then moving down one side to his neck. "Turns out I can say no to you just about as easily as I can to Cole," Hank's voice rumbled and Connor almost danced. Hank's warm, heavy hand rested on the side of Connor's neck, thumb brushing his immaculate hairline, then stroking a spot Connor knew to be a bit more freckled. "Come on, baby." 

How he managed to not leap to his feet, Connor would never know. Instead he nudged Sumo off, who ambled back to his bed while Connor stood. He turned, taking Hank's hand and they went into his bedroom. He was surprised to see that Hank was dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. But, Connor had assumed-

Any doubt was cut off when the bedroom door closed. Connor found himself pressed against it, his personal space invaded by Hank. A hand to his neck, thumb under his jaw tipping his face up and his mouth claimed by Hank. Connor gripped at his biceps and let out a weak moan.

When Hank came back for air, his face was flushed and his eyes were dark. "I can't promise this will happen more than once. With Cole in the house-"

Connor nodded, that was one reason he hadn't pushed before now. He'd happily take one night. "I understand." He squeezed Hank's biceps gently, enjoying the firmness just under the softness.

"By all rights," Hank murmured, drawing away, taking Connor's hands and soon falling back on the bed, drawing Connor beside him. "I should take you through the whole experience." Hank lay on his side, drawing Connor to face him, the way they often lay in the evenings.

"I'm familiar in general terms with what sex entails, but what do you consider the whole experience?"

"Oh, lots of little things," Hank murmured. His hand rested on Connor's hip, thumb wiggling under the hem of his shirt. "Making out on the living room couch, getting all hot and bothered but can't go further because," He leaned forward to whisper into Connor's ear, voice pitched up slightly, "My mom's got really good hearing."

Connor laughed, not trying to keep himself quiet. "We have our own version of that already," he pointed out. Virtually every night, they would get comfortable on the couch waiting for Cole to sleep, and he'd come out to the bathroom.

"Okay, fair point." Hank's hand began rubbing small circles on Connor's hip, fingers trailing over his ass, thumb nudging under his shirt. "Next would be ... 'Woops, car's out of gas,’" He peppered little kisses along Connor's jaw. "Guess we should make out then, huh?" 

Connor chuckled, letting his head tip back, offering his throat and neck to Hank, enjoying the tickle and scrape of his beard. "And how does this teenage scenario usually wind up?"

"Depends, couple ways it can go," Hank murmured, nipping at Connor's neck. His hand on Connor's hip finally cupped his ass and drew him closer. "Sometimes they just make out."

Connor was loving this, the soft touches, Hank's low, rumbly voice filling his head, the fact that it wouldn't stop where it usually did. It already felt more intimate than usual, because Connor knew it wasn't going to end once they got really hot and bothered. "Seems awkward, front seat of the car," he tried to imagine it, Hank behind the wheel, Connor leaning over, but the steering wheel getting in the way. 

"Oh, hella," Hank chuckled, pausing his explanation to kiss Connor slow and deep. "That's why smart money says talk your date into climbing in the back."

"Understandable," Connor breathed, his hips rocking against Hank's. His leg bent, thigh drawing up, leg hooking over Hank's. His action was mirrored and he felt Hank press closer. "What happens then? In the back?"

"Handjobs usually," Hank's hand clenched gently on Connor's ass and he scraped his teeth against his jaw. "Blowjobs if someone's feeling generous."

Connor licked his lips. "I've given that a good deal of thought." He cut off describing his thought process as to why but he wound up with, "I believe I would very much enjoy having your cock in my mouth."

"Fuck!" Hank's hips snapped forward, then he drew them back. "Jesus, Con. Don't tease me like that."

Connor's eyes danced at that and he smiled. "Why do you think I'm teasing, Hank?" Hoping he wasn't crossing boundaries, he nudged Hank onto his back and sprawled over him "I've told you about the innumerable sensors that I come equipped with," he dragged the tip of his tongue against Hank's neck, enjoying the sudden wave of sensory information. "You yourself called it an oral fixation, and I'm well aware of the sexual connotations of that term." Since Hank seemed to be willing to let him have his way, he moved down. Connor nudged his shirt up, exposing Hank's soft middle.

"Yeah but that doesn't-"

This time it was Connor's turn to smirk. A simple lick across the curve of Hank's belly proved to be just as distracting as warm finger against a cool neck. Connor's eyes fluttered innocently. "You may continue your narrative if you wish," he offered even as he moved down. He'd felt Hank's cock against his body any number of times, but out of deference for his hesitation, had not actually attempted to touch it, even through clothing. He didn't attempt to do so now, either, at least not with his hand. Before Hank could say anything, Connor pressed his face against his crotch, feeling his thick, hard cock through the material, drawing in Hank's strong, musky scent and groaning softly at the intimacy of it.

"Fuck!" Hank slid a hand into Connor's hair, his hips rocking up unsteadily. "Connor, Jesus, you're a fucking tease! Fuck!"

Connor revelled in the volume of Hank's protests, since his voice seldom rose above a whisper when Cole was asleep. He lifted his head, wondering if he looked as dazed as he felt, almost intoxicated by Hank. "I'm hardly a tease, Hank," he murmured. His fingers found the waistband of Hank's pajama bottoms and drew them down, just enough to reach in and expose his cock, catching the elastic under his balls. He let his cool breath caress Hank's no doubt overheated cock as he continued speaking. "A tease doesn't follow through. A tease would leave you hard and aching with no intention of offering the promised pleasure." Connor could feel Hank's fingers working in his hair, could almost hear him talking himself out of just moving Connor to get on with it. But he didn't. Needy as he was - and he certainly was if the precome glistening on his cock was any indication - he was letting Connor play.

"You're a t-tease, or you wouldn't take so much fucking time getting to the point," Hank growled, hand sliding through Connor's hair again.

Connor noticed the lack of real fire, and the lack of pressure to his head, not pulling him closer. "I've been thinking of this for some time," Connor murmured. "I want to savor it. Want to savor  _ you _ ," Connor purred. All the while, Hank's cock had been leaking and a thick drop finally began a glide down the underside. Showing mercy, Connor licked it, racing it back up and wrapped his mouth around the head of Hank's cock. The explosion of tastes and sensory data had him moaning.

Connor's moan was echoed by Hank and Connor could feel his legs moving, restless with need. He shifted, kneeling between Hank's broad thighs and starting to bob. He'd never done this before, and he'd considered trying to obtain traci protocols, but he opted against it, prefering to learn for himself. He didn't want to know how to suck any and all cock, he wanted and needed to know only how to please Hank.

Connor took care in his learning, figuring how firm Hank liked the suction, what made him buck, which way of sucking made him moan the loudest. Connor enjoyed being able to lose himself, to focus on learning something he couldn't simply download or preconstruct his way through.

"Con! Con-fuck! Baby, baby stop!" 

Con  _ almost  _ didn't listen. It would be a way to prove, utterly, his deviancy, his consent, his willingness, and his  _ choice _ but it would also no doubt upset Hank. Not the disobedience, if anything he enjoyed that part of Connor, but there was a desperation, a neediness to the request. So less than a heartbeat after Hank asked, Connor's mouth slowed, his lips loosened and he drew his head up. Try as he might, he hadn't been able to keep from drooling somewhat and he knew his chin glistened just as wetly as his lips.

"Oh fuck me," Hank's hands were rougher than usual, but Connor dismissed that as neediness and hunger, not callousness. He pulled Connor up, sitting him on his belly, too high to grind down against his cock, which made Connor whine. Strong hands gripped his thighs, keeping him from wiggling down. "Kiss me, baby," Hank ordered. No, he begged, Connor realized. Connor's height meant he'd have to bend his back to kiss Hank, positioned as he was.

So that was exactly what he did. Connor kissed him deep, and Hank returned it, tasting his own cock in Connor's mouth, and since Connor had no taste of his own, and the mint was long gone,  _ all _ Hank was tasting was his own cock.

"Christ, that's filthy," Hank breathed when he had to gasp for air. "I can get used to that," then he kissed Connor again.

Hank finally eased Connor down enough so his back could straighten, his chest pressed against Hank's, feeling Hank's erection leaking against him. Things were gentler now, Hank doesn't seem quite so ragged, ready to fly apart.

"You like that?" Connor murmured. "Just-just the taste of you in my mouth?" He thought so but he wanted to hear it, to be certain. Wanted to hear Hank's voice talk to him sort of dirty.

"I've kissed after blowjobs, even got a mouth full of my own come a few times, but there's always ... something else. Whatever they've been eating, the taste of their own mouth. With you just then, it was  _ just _ my dick. Not even my come plus fingers like when I lick my hand after."

"You seemed surprised."

"At my age, Con, finding something new in bed that I like is pretty fuckin' surprising."

Connor couldn't help a swell of pride at that, gazing at Hank and caressing his cheek. "Someday, when you've let me, I hope you enjoy it after I've had you come in my mouth," he murmured. He understood, he hoped, why Hank  _ hadn't _ allowed that today.

Hank chuckled, his hands rubbing up and down Connor's back, finally resting on the tops of his ass. "I look forward to that, baby," he promised.

"So what's next?" Connor murmured, nuzzling Hank's beard. "Livingroom, car ... What more is there to the full experience?" He loved the feeling of Hank under him, soft and broad and  _ his _ .

"Sneaking your date into your bedroom while the parents are out," Hank said after a few moments of thoughtful nuzzling. "Looks a lot like this, actually," he added, hand sliding down to squeeze Connor's ass.

Connor bit his lip, then decided to suggest his own twist, hoping he was getting the 'rules' right. "But we have to be fast," he said with a breathy nuzzle to Hank's cheek. "Mom and Dad could be back any minute."

Not thinking Hank could move so fast, Connor gasped when he found himself on his back with Hank half over him. "That's why this covers a lot of the same ground as the car. Main difference is there's a lot more room." Hank's fingers skimmed down Connor's shirt, caressing his tummy before they eased down over his pajama bottoms, finding his erection and cupping it gently. "Can I ask something?"

"You can ask anything, Hank," Connor's breath was a little less steady owing to that warm, heavy pressure against his cock. Hank was on his side, one leg tossed around Connor's, arm propped on his elbow. Connor had one arm under Hank, his other stroking his chest.

"What do I have to play with, here?" Hank squeezed him gently. "I know you've got this," he gave his slim cock another squeeze. "And I know you've got a snug little hole for me to open up." 

Connor swallowed, not in nervousness, but in heated anticipation, and he rocked up against Hank's gently squeezing fingers. "I don't need lubricant," he offered. That had taken some doing on Connor's part. Like virtually all models, he had the orifice, and the membranes were 'naturally' self lubricating. In Connor's case, like most others not built for pleasure, he had never had the coding to make use of it embedded in his system. He'd managed to get his hands on an after-market upgrade. Then he'd had to obtain a lubricant. Luckily, virtually any oil based one would do, Connor merely had to open a panel on his side and ensure the tank was filled.

"Aw, fuck," Hank chuckled, nuzzling his shoulder. "That's kinda fucking hot. How do you stretch? Do I get to open you up?"

Connor bit his lip shyly and nodded. "I anticipated that you would prefer to do so, and I very much wanted to feel your fingers inside me. I fingered myself briefly, but I didn't even bother with penetration." Connor was enjoying the tightrope act that seemed to appeal to many human males - the experienced virgin.

"And what about little Connor, here?" Hank finally slipped his hand under Connor's pajama bottoms. The warm, callused touch to his cock had Connor crying out softly. His own hand, even Hank's through cloth hadn't prepared him for just how good Hank's hand on him would feel. "Hank Junior's only got one good round in him, so I gotta make him wait." He kissed Connor slowly. "Why I had to stop you before."

Connor clung to Hank, almost wanting to pull him completely over him. He wanted to drag Hank between his legs, push his clothes down and start mewling for him. But Connor was loving this, Hank teaching him, exploring him the way he wanted to do with Hank. He drew Hank's mouth to his for a slow kiss. "Connor Junior is ... Eager. Enthusiastic. I've never attained orgasm, but prolonged or repeated tumescence won't be a problem. I have a reservoir, designed to hold approximately a cup of simulated ejaculate. Once that's dry, I'll continue to achieve orgasm, but will produce no ejaculate."

"Fuckin' Christ, Con," Hank groaned, his chin resting on Connor's shoulder. "The fuck were you when I was eighteen?" He pressed a kiss to Connor then, and Connor surmised he wasn't intended to answer. When the kiss ended, Connor realized he was a little breathless, an interesting state since he didn't need to breathe. "Reason I asked," Hank murmured, his hand starting to work Connor's cock slowly. "Usually some lucky boy gets to come in his pants." He tightened his hand.

Connor let out a moan, his body arching up, hand sliding along Hank's arm, savoring the play of muscle under his skin as his arm worked. "D-did you-Were you ev-?" The pleasure was grabbing more and more of his processing power and making speech more difficult.

"I wound up with my share of wet boxers, yeah." Hank's eyes were bright as he slid them over Connor. "Caused a few, too," he added. "Grew up early, had hands people liked," he murmured. He stopped playing with Connor, leaving him to whine as he drew his hand out. Only when he pushed at the waistband did Connor realize what he was doing and helped. Soon his cock was exposed to the air, waistband of his bottoms tugged down enough to free it. "Oh, that's a lovely sight." Hank gazed down Connor's body, letting the blue-tinged flesh rest against his palm.

Connor tried to rock against the too loose hold, his hand clenching at Hank's back while his legs worked, understanding Hank’s restless need earlier. "Please," Connor mewled. There was no artifice to his request, nothing practiced about his movements, Connor preferred relying entirely on instinct. "Hank!" On following his own desires and trying to match them to Hank's. So far it seemed to be working, if Hank's low groan and the tightening of his hand on Connor's cock were any indication.

"In high school," Hank continued, though his voice was a little rougher, and Connor could feel Hank's erection pressing heavily against his hip. "This was about the best you could get." Hank was still stroking Connor, hand moving a bit more firmly. "Some pretty thing in your bed," He hooked one leg over Connor's, pulling his thigh closer, drawing them apart and leaving Connor feeling a bit more open. "Your hand between their legs."

"Is-Isn't it better," Connor rocked up, his body striving for something, reaching for he didn't know what. "To-to have the hand?" He didn't think he was making any sense. Hank's touch, firm and steady, and his voice, rough and deep were leeching away almost every ounce of brain power he had, leaving him with nothing but a few gasped words and a burning need.

"Ooh, not if you're me," he purred. "Nothing I love-" Hank's hand drew up Connor's length and squeezed the head. "Nothing I love more than watching  _ my  _ pretty boy-" Hank's hand sped up, Connor's precome helping to slick his hold. "Lose his fucking mind."

What surprised Connor the most, after, was that he wasn't actually very loud. He let out a high whistling sort of sound, with a burst of crackling static at the end. Then he collapsed, panting to cool his overheated systems, his cock twitching into Hank's hand.

Hank lifted his hand slowly, eyeing the thick, faintly blue substance on his hand, also splattered on Connor's shirt. "I know they make red ice out of-" he glanced at Connor.

Connor read the question, at least he thought he did, as his pleasure waned and his thought processes were freed up again. "It's safe," he murmured. "D-derived from thirium but utterly safe for human consumption."

"Hmm." Thus assured, Hank drew his hand up and gave it a lick. "Doesn't taste like anything," he said, but it didn't stop him cleaning the rest of it off his hand.

Just watching Hank's pink tongue darting over his hand, cleaning up Connor's own- He blushed deeply at the thought. Once Hank's hand looked clean enough Connor reached up, pulling Hank down for a kiss. His ejaculate was tasteless to Hank but Connor could pick up the dozen or so compounds it was made of. Tasting those in Hank's mouth was an incredible experience.

Now that his pleasure had peaked, Connor felt a warmth spread through his circuits, making him feel soft. Sated and hungry at the same time. "I like this," Connor said, reaching up to stroke Hank's cheek. "I like you talking to me. Telling me how it can be for humans."

"I wish I could do better than just talking, Con," Hank said quietly. Those lovely fingers reached down, sliding the waistband of Connor's pajama pants back up around his waist.

Connor could almost feel the weight settling around them and reached up, once again demonstrating his physical prowess and pulling Hank over him, legs braced on either side of Hank. "I'm perfectly happy with what I'm getting, Hank," he murmured, cupping Hank's face. "Because what I'm getting is  _ you _ and I don't want anything else."

Once Hank recovered from the change of position, his face softened and he smiled down at Connor. Shifting so he was on his elbows, he kissed Connor slowly, just savoring the moment, letting it draw out. When it ended, he gazed down at Connor, one hand moving to caress his cheek. "This is, uhm," he gave a lopsided smile and his hand moved from Connor's cheek down to his thigh. "This is getting towards college dorm territory."

Connor's whole body relaxed when he realized he'd managed to avoid allowing Hank to sink down into his own morass of doubts. "And what happens there?" Connor asked, his hands rubbing up and down Hank's biceps and up to his shoulders. "In college dorm rooms?"

"Now, understand, most people who want to, have managed to have sex at some point before college. Sex. But college ..." Hank grinned, getting more into his narration now, it seemed. "College is usually the first place people have that's their own space - sort of - with no parents. If you're really lucky," Hank's hand slid up Connor's thigh and under his shirt. "You wind up with a roommate who's DTF, which eliminates a majority of the problems of dorm room sex."

"DTF?" Connor ran a quick search. "Down to fuck? Is that what you did, Hank?" He asked curiously, shivering at that lovely hand up his side. "Fuck your college roommate?"

"I wasn't that lucky. My dorm mate the first year was some uptight Christian asshole who eventually fucked off to Utah around March to get away from all us godless heathens." 

While Hank spoke, his hands had worked, urging Connor's shirt up, and finally sat up to pull it off over his head. Then he stopped, gazing down at Connor with a scared, slightly dazed expression. "What?" Connor worried for a moment that something had occurred to Hank. Then he followed the direction of Hank's eyes. He had never realized he could feel quite so exposed, and moved his hand, covering the black circle of his pump. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling the evening crashing around them. Until now it had been fun, almost make believe that Connor was a real boy. This drove home the fact that Connor was not, and could never be human. He tried to sit up, keeping a hand over his pump.

"Connor," Hank's voice broke through Connor's own spiralling thoughts, and his hand, his warm, big hand rested on his shoulder, urging Connor to lay back down. "Can I see?" His other hand brushed the back of Connor's, then skimmed up to move under his wrist. Connor was unresisting as Hank lifted his hand, exposing his pump. 

Connor kept his eyes down and his head turned away, not wanting to see the look on Hank's face as he was laid bare, his inhumanity exposed. He knew his LED was blinking between yellow and red, despite his efforts to stay calm.

When he felt Hank move off of him, it was all Connor could do not to cry. Then he felt Hank’s arms, one under, one hand on his shoulder, rolling him until he was tucked against Hank's chest. Which was newly bare. Thinking that perhaps this wasn't the end of everything, Connor slowly let his arms wind around Hank. "I'm sorry," Connor whispered.

"Baby, nothing to be sorry for." Hank's voice was low and soothing. "I didn't realize just how vulnerable you are. If I crossed a line, I apologize. Once I'm confident you're not gonna bolt, I'll let go so you can get your shirt back on, if you want."

"That won't be necessary," Connor said, touched by the offer, smiling against Hank's shoulder. "I have no intention of bolting." He wrapped his arms tight around Hank, pulling him closer. Hank's chest hair tickled Connor's chest, and while the pump itself had no sensors, the skin around it did and he got a small burst of quiet proximity alarms. Nothing dangerous, just his body reacting to foreign contact to an extremely sensitive area. "I didn't realize I would react the way I did. When you saw me, I thought... We couldn't pretend I was human any longer."

After a few false starts at a response, Hank took a breath, triggering a few more proximity alarms. "When I saw your pump like that- just- right there, I was-I was in awe of how vulnerable you were. That you were letting me see you like that. That-that kind of trust-Your heart was-right there." Hank's awe came through in every word.

When Connor first tried to draw away, Hank held firm until Connor stroked his cheek. Nothing was spoken, but Connor laid back, keeping his eyes locked with Hank's. Connor let his hand drift down Hank's arm, finding where it rested on his hip. He took a slow breath and knew Hank would be able to feel how fast it was pumping. Lifting his hand, he pressed Hank's broad palm against his pump, covering the hand with his own.

"Going a mile a minute," Hank murmured, and Connor's breath caught at the near reverence in his voice. When Hank licked his lips it sped up. "Going faster now."

"You have that effect on me," Connor whispered. "You always have. Even before- I think I loved you before I could even really love."

It wasn't their first kiss, but to Connor it almost felt like it. There was a weight to it that he hadn't known was lacking previously. Hank eased over him, more proximity alarms tingling in his vision. Two hands slid into Hank's hair and Connor adjusted his settings. Hank, no part of Hank would set off his pump proximity alarms any longer. Hank  _ belonged  _ there. Once it was done, he pushed up, wanting to be closer.

They stayed like that for a time, just holding each other, feeling their beats, heart and thirium, against each other's chest. This time, instead of waiting for, or gently coaxing Hank, Connor took the lead. His hands swept up and down Hank's broad, warm back, then slid down to his ass, easing his pajama bottoms down. The delicate hair on his ass tickled against Connor's hands and he smiled against Hank's mouth.

Hank wiggled out of his own pajama bottoms, then helped Connor out of his. With strong, gentle movements, he laid Connor on his stomach and moved over him, nuzzling his back. Connor gasped at the firm press of Hank's erection against him and the tickle of his hair on Connor's shoulders as Hank nuzzled his neck. "Don't need the details, baby, just yes or no," Hank's breath was hot against Connor's cool skin and he let out a sigh.

"Yes," he turned his head, turning to nuzzle Hank. "Whatever you want, yes."

"Nice try, baby, but I need you to think about this one. I know your come is safe, what about your fancy self lubricating ass?"

Connor let out a breathy laugh. "Safe. Unless you actually cut me open, everything that comes out of me is safe."

"Since I don't have any plans for that, we're in excellent shape," Hank purred. 

Strong hands rubbed down Connor's back and sides, and warm lips surrounded by soft whiskers began to make their way down his spine. Connor was too busy savoring the pleasured delight that the touches entailed to put together Hank's questions with his actions. Not even the firm hands to his ass drawing his cheeks apart clued him in.

Hank's tongue, warm and wet and sudden, dragging over Connor's untouched pucker had him letting out a long, unrestrained moan. "Oh, that's a pretty fuckin' sound," Hank growled. He repeated the motion again, and again, lavishing attention on Connor.

Connor did his best not to squirm, his breathing erratic. He could shut off certain autonomic responses, hack himself into staying still, but he didn't think Hank would enjoy that. He knew he himself wouldn't. He had come across this act, had knowledge of it, but hadn't expected Hank to initiate it. In retrospect, he should have. It had become clear over the last few hours that for all he had teased Connor, Hank himself was the one with the oral fixation, at least in bed. His kisses, always pressing his lips to whatever skin he could get. Even when he spoke, half his words were muffled or slurred because he never stopped kissing long enough. Han's experienced taste with sexual fluids.

A sudden warm pressure to his balls derailed Connor's thoughts and he let out a moan. Then he heard a smug chuckle from behind him. "Quit fuckin' thinking, Connor," he purred. "Even with your brain the size of a planet, if you can think while I'm rimming you, I'm not doing it right."

"I was-was merely-" Connor let out another loud, high pitched moan as Hank's tongue pushed  _ into _ him and he gave up trying to speak, or even think and just revelled in the pleasure.

"Good boy," Hank murmured once Connor simply moaned and accepted Hank's actions. Strong, beautiful hands pushed Connor around, lifting his hips, shoving a pillow under them. His thighs were pushed apart and once again gorgeous hands pried his cheeks apart as Hank dove in. Connor could feel Hank's beard, his long silver hair against his increasingly sensitive skin.

Hank had already stroked him off once but somehow a warm, callused finger tracing down the underside of his cock had Connor moaning again. Hank's mouth slid down to nuzzle and suck at Connor's balls again. Experimentally, Connor gave his hole a little twitch and moaned. He was so  **wet** he was probably dripping, and it wasn't all his own slick. Hardly any, according to his internal sensors. Hank had just-Connor let out a moan at the very thought.

Connor became briefly aware that Hank's mouth was no longer on any part of him. "Hank-" He just barely had the name out when he was rolled over. Simply ... rolled. Hands on his thighs, twisting just so and Connor was on his back. Then Hank resumed his oral ministrations and Connor had an idea of what he'd done to Hank earlier. "Hank!" he moaned again, his hands sliding into Hank's hair as Connor felt the tickle of his whiskers against his balls and his flat tummy. Connor felt a tight, sucking pressure around the head of his cock and had to fight back the urge to rut up into Hank's mouth. "Hank! Hank!" As pleasant as it had been earlier, this was actually shorting out parts of Connor's processors, redlining them with glorious overload, even more than his orgasm earlier had done.

"Fuck you're hot like this, Con," Hank's voice was rough and growly and it rumbled through Connor's whole body. He resumed his motions, bobbing on Connor's erection.

Already worked up by Hank's mouth before, this new attention didn't take long to put Connor over the edge. Hank sucked, swallowed, and a heartbeat later, Connor was coming, flooding into his mouth with a shaky moan before he collapsed.

"Fuck me, Con, that was a pretty fucking sight." Hank slid up the bed, tucking into Connor's side.

Weakly, Connor tried to lift his head, his arm flopping when he reached for Hank. "Hank," he breathed. He was slowly coming back online, but language was complex and required more processing than he had available at the moment. And by all accounts, penetrative sex was even more intense than oral. He wasn't entirely certain he would survive intact. After another, more concentrated effort, his arm obeyed and he drew Hank closer, a hand at the back of his neck pulling him in for a kiss.

He began to get some real idea of what Hank meant. He could taste himself, copious amounts of his synthetic ejaculate. But also Hank. His mouth, his last meal. And even, when his tongue brushed over a certain spot, a few drops of Hank's own emissions from Connor's mouth earlier.

"Christ, Connor," Hank breathed, gazing down at Connor as he recovered. Hank kissed him again and Connor felt his broad hand move down his chest. He teased each nipple, then drew away for a moment. They both gazed down, Hank's fingers reverently tracing the edge of Connor's pump.

As his hand moved down, Connor's legs drew up and apart, offering himself to Hank. His mouth had been wonderful, but now his finger, just one at first, pressed in far deeper and Connor whined in pleasure.

"Christ, you're fucking noisy, Con." Hank's voice was so rich, so deep and loving that Connor didn't even feel the beginnings of a need to apologize. He certainly didn't quiet down. "Can't wait to hear when I'm actually inside you."

"Can-can't wait to feel you there," Connor managed to gasp out between whimpers and moans. "Could-I could take you now."

"Know I can't break you, or hurt you, but I love this part, baby." Hank's finger pushed in deeper and Connor arched. "Love watching you while I open you up. Listen to you moan and howl while I-" Hank twisted his finger just so, rubbing against what passed for a prostate in androids and a loud cry was pushed from his throat while Connor's eyes shorted out for a second with the sheer sudden overwhelming pleasure of it.

When his vision returned, the first thing Connor saw was a very smug looking Hank. "Told you I’ve been thinking about this," he chuckled. Connor blinked, then remembered that androids were set up differently to humans. Hank hadn't found that spot by accident, and it wasn't where a human's would be.

Before Connor could say anything, a second finger was pushing into him and language once again became a distant memory. Connor clung to Hank, legs wide as he arched up, two, then three fingers twisting and pushing into him.

"Probably better," Hank began as he slowly withdrew his fingers, Connor following the motion with a needy whine. "If I roll you over for this." Hank shifted, laying over Connor, then kneeling between his spread thighs. "But I can be a greedy bastard."

"No," Connor protested softly, reaching for Hank, caressing his thighs and belly and anything else he could reach "Not greedy, so kind, so generous."

"Oh, very greedy, Con," Hank continued. He leaned forward, one arm braced on the bed, his other guiding his cock down to rub against Connor. Connor's breath stuttered as Hank rubbed his leaking erection over his balls, then down to nudge at his stretched orifice. "Wanna watch you," was Hank's explanation. "Wanna watch your face the first time I'm inside you." He fit the head of his cock against Connor's hole and pushed carefully.

First a tongue, then one finger, then more. Nothing had prepared Connor for the shocking reality of Hank's cock pushing into him. It was everything he'd imagined and so, so very much more. The pleasure he felt was mirrored on Hank’s face as he sank into him. "Hank-Hank, oh!"

Finally Hank was as deep as he could get, Connor's legs pulled up, held by his own hands while Hank braced himself on the bed. "You ready, baby?" he murmured, arms bending so he could kiss Connor softly.

"Yes, please, Hank, yes," he mewled, well aware he was begging, wishing he could grab Hank and hold him. After a moment's thought, he just kept his legs where they were and let go, smirking when they didn't move and he was free to pull Hank down for a kiss.

While they kissed, Hank began to move. Slow, precise movements, easing in and out. Then he sped up, pulling out farther, pushing in deeper. Kisses got sloppy, then became nothing more than a wet, breathy press of lips as Hank thrust hard enough to jar both their bodies.

Connor now knew how his rising pleasure felt, how to judge how close he was, but Hank's orgasm bypassed those careful calculations. A shuddering grunt, a low growl of Connor's name, and a sudden burst of heated wetness inside him and Connor's whole frame seemed to shake apart with pleasure.

When Connor felt a shift in Hank's weight, he tightened his arms, pulling him down forcibly to lay over him. "I don't have to breathe," he reminded Hank. "Stay right where you are. Please?"

"Someday, Con," Hank murmured, voice muffled against Connor's neck as he got comfortable, still buried inside Connor even as he softened. "Someday I'm gonna fuckin' be able to say no to you." Connor laughed softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn what happened to Cole's mother, and a month later things begin coming to a head on the deviant front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Aden and Dana for beta!
> 
> I hemmed and hawed about posting this as is - I worry it's a little abrupt, but between other writing projects, and several people assuring me that it's not too jarring, I'm posting it now.

"This is healing very well," Connor said, a cool finger on Hank's side.

"Yeah, well," Hank smiled, hand resting on Connor's knee. "Bossy android made me get it patched up.”

"Sounds like a very clever android."

"Smartest fuckin' person I know." Hank smiled, just letting his eyes wander over Connor, enjoying the faint blush on his high cheeks.

Hank was propped up, semi reclined against the headboard, one leg drawn up, more comfortable being naked than he'd been in a long time. 

Connor wasn't naked. He was sitting cross legged, facing Hank, wearing an overly large shirt that exposed a delicious expanse of shoulder and collarbone. Specifically, Hank's shirt. More specifically, his favorite undershirt that he wore the most. Which Connor had pointed out when he'd strode over to his hamper and pulled it on without so much as a by your leave.

Along with the countless languages androids came preloaded with, Connor was becoming alarmingly fluent in Hank Anderson's Lizard Brain-ese. Evidenced by his being wrapped up in Hank's clothes. As well as quiet little half gasps when he moved just so that signalled 'job well done' to Hank's dick.

Hank felt Connor's fingers drift, skimming over his newest ink, but left the question unasked, this time. "What's this one?" Connor asked, finger brushing over Hank's nipple, then tracing a tattoo on the far side of it.

Catching the impish look on Connor's face, Hank chuckled. "You  _ already got _ a second fucking round out of me, Con, and I don't even know how you managed that. You're not getting a third."

"I'm a very stubborn man, Hank," Connor chuckled, shifting closer, giving his nipple another tweak as he leaned in to kiss Hank.

"I know you are, baby, and god, I'd love nothing more than to be able to go all fucking night with you. I just really don't think I can. It's been an hour and junior's still down for the count. Come here you," He tugged Connor closer, between his legs to lay tucked against him. "I'm going to be an absolute  _ wreck _ tomorrow, but damned if I'm going to sleep anytime soon," he chuckled, rubbing a hand over Connor's arm.

"I like the way it feels when you talk." Connor's head was turned sideways, ear pressed to Hank's chest, about where Connor's pump was.

"Want me to keep talking, then, baby?" He asked, fingers stroking through Connor's hair, vaguely and mildly offended that it didn't show any signs that he'd fucked Connor into overload twice. No dampness, no coarseness from dry sweat, just an endlessly immaculate, silken smooth hairdo.

"I always love listening to you talk." Connor wiggled to rest his head a little higher. "When Cole's in the mood for a bedtime story, I sit in the livingroom and listen." It was an increasingly rare event, but one that Hank always indulged. Anything to keep his boy happy - and a kid - as long as possible.  

"You can sit in the room, don't think Cole would mind." Hank let his mind and voice wander, telling Connor some of the nothing stories of his job the last few weeks. He didn't touch on what was becoming a growing concern. More and more androids were turning up missing, or turning violent. He forced himself to put that out of his mind and just tightened his hold on Connor. "Something I need to tell you, baby," he said quietly.

Hearing the change in tone, Connor lifted his head. "Do you need me to move?" He asked, cool hand resting on Hank's belly.

"There isn't a position that exists that'll make this any more comfortable, baby." Hank shifted a little, then drew Connor into his arms.

He started, as one does, at the beginning. He met Irene through work. She'd been a nurse, they hooked up a few times. Caught feels, moved in together. They were already engaged when Cole was conceived. The pregnancy was hard, she quit her job, but it was fine, Hank just got promoted so he had extra money so they managed okay.

Cole had been about one when Irene started showing problems. Nothing massive, nothing at all dangerous, but her anxiety started to climb. Hank did what he could, but being the only breadwinner, he had to pick up all the shifts he could. Thankfully a local woman was willing to look after Cole during the day, to take the stress off of Irene.

"She was a good mom, she tried, I know that. If I could manage to keep him occupied or out of the house for a while, she'd put on her best for him for a few hours. We'd watch a movie, she'd put him to bed, then she'd sleep until I came home the next day."

The worse was when she'd cried. Heaving sobs in his arms, about nothing and everything. Clinging to a husband who couldn't do anything for her, no matter how hard he tried.

Then a new medication, more effective than the ever changing regimen she'd been on before. She'd seemed to wake up, growing back into the woman Hank married. So for four years, she'd been the mom Cole deserved, the one he remembered now.

After four years, the medication was less effective. Like before, it was a slow development. More anxiety, sleeping longer, depression creeping back in.

"We kept it from Cole. This time, at least, she told me how bad it was getting. She talked about it more. She'd been in therapy all the while and it helped. They upped the dose, and upped it again. It helped, sort of."

Hank had to stop, drawing Connor up higher. Connor wiggled around, wrapping himself around Hank and offering what support he could. "The official story," he said, nuzzling Connor's hair. "The one you found if you looked her up-"

"I didn't," Connor whispered.

Hank just nodded. "Car accident. And that's ninety five percent of the truth. That's what Cole knows. Me, Jeff, one nurse at the hospital where she used to work, and now you, know the other five percent. When she totaled the car, Irene had enough sleeping pills in her system to kill me three times over. We-We kept our important shit - deed, passports, l-life insurance, all that. We had a safe deposit box for all of it. She left two letters in it. One for me. Thanking me, apologising, don't blame myself, all the- the usual suicide note things. She asked me to give Cole's to him when he was sixteen."

"What did it say?"

"Never opened it. I don't know if I'm ever gonna give it to him, Connor," he admitted. "What he knows is hard enough. The accident didn't kill her right off. She spent a hard week dying. I- even with everything, I hoped if she heard him, if he came and talked to his mommy, maybe she'd-Maybe it would be enough-"

Hank didn't break down, he didn't, but it was close. Connor shifted, wiggling out of his arms to tuck next to him and draw Hank against his cool, slender chest. Connor didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Just having him there, solid and deeply present was like a grounding wire for Hank's electrified emotions. "After the funeral, I- Well, you saw the state I was in when you turned up."

"I saw a father who cared very, very much for his son. A man who had a deep pain he was trying to keep to himself. I saw a son who loved his father enough to risk his wrath to help him in the best way he could think of."

"All I could see then was a father who wasn't worthy of the son he had, because he'd let his mother die. I- I know better, I do. Not drinking myself into the ground every night has- it's helped. I'm glad you came, Connor. Even before tonight, I was very glad you came."

"I'm very glad as well. There were times in the past when I could have preferred my life to go differently. But right here, I can't imagine an outcome I'd be happier with. And you know I can imagine quite a lot."

Hank chuckled, twisting a little and kissing Connor softly. He wanted to say it, to tell Connor how he felt, but the words stuck in his throat. Mabe Irene's ghost was too close right now. Finally he took a breath and kissed Connor again. Worse, Connor had already said it or near enough, and now Hank couldn't. Reluctantly sitting up, he glanced at his clock but Connor was between him and it. "What time is it?"

"Three thirty seven A.M."

Hank groaned. "Fuck me." He spread himself on the bed, in a position he knew would be uncomfortable but he didn't want to move. "Wake me up when it's time for work," he closed his eyes.

"Hank," Connor said with a soft laugh. Then cool, strong hands began to manhandle him. Just lifting him and tugging, this way and that. Finally he was in his usual spot, under the covers, but still naked. Since Cole was going straight to school with his friend, he didn't care. Then Connor slipped under the covers. Hank rolled to his side, drew the android close and was asleep between one heartbeat and the next.

The following morning was sweet, slow morning kisses and breakfast in bed. Then work.

Over the next few weeks, things settled into a kind of new normal. Around Cole, they were as they had always been; Connor maintained the house, helped with homework, did the cooking. Hank came home on time most days, and always before bedtime no matter what.

They never risked making love again, but they did fool around a little more than they had before. Tucked into Hank's bed, rutting slowly, breath mingled, ending with soft gasps.

At work, a new android, paired with Gavin Reed. The fact that it had Connor's face was a little fucking disconcerting to say the least. Looking close at the RK900 model, though, Hank could see the difference right away. From the way the RK900 looked, Connor had  _ always _ been deviant. Always a little more human. Still had Connor's face, even if it was a cold kind of neutral version.

The situation with deviants made Hank's skin crawl. Not their existence, but the fact that the solution seemed to be extermination. Humans were the most inhumane sons of bitches.

About a month after Cole's birthday, the air at the station house was uncomfortably charged in a way Hank didn't like in the least. There was a buzz about the FBI coming to take over Reed and 'Nines’' cases.  They were the ones working all the deviant cases.

Then another buzz, sharper and even more insistent. Something was going on with deviants. Androids in the streets were being turned deviant somehow.

Hank almost put the thought out of his mind until he remembered. Connor was out today.

It had taken some doing, finding a shop that was willing to make a suit for an android, and not charge an arm and a leg. A human was still required, though. Fucked as it was, an eleven year old boy was acceptable. Hank couldn't take the time right now, but he wanted Connor happy, and Cole would love a day off school. He'd given Connor extra money to let him do some christmas shopping.

He hadn't expected this shit would be going down today. He almost dialed Connor's private number, but then the FBI pukes began oozing around the office and he knew if he called an android's private line, he'd be leading them right to Connor. It might be safe, it might be dismissed but he didn't want to risk bringing any attention whatsoever to his deviant lover.

So he called Cole's phone. He didn't think the FBI fuckers were paying any real attention to him, but he opted to play it safe. He eased into the guise of irritated father, and prayed his boys could figure it out.

When Cole answered with an excited "Dad!" it was all Hank could do not to respond. Instead, he growled, low and quiet as if to himself. "Cole Connor Anderson you better pick up this phone."

"Hank?" Connor's voice was clearly concerned.

"Are you at Toby's, young man?" 

"Hank what-"

"I found the mess you made, and I  _ want you home right now, do you understand? _ "

"I-I understand, Hank." He hated the fear he could hear in Connor's voice and rubbed a hand to his forehead.

He did a quick calculation of how long they'd been out. "And those lights, those stupid blue fairy lights around the head of your bed, I want you to take those down." Cole, bless his heart, always got him a hat and scarf, and had probably picked it up by now. It would cover Connor's LED. 

Connor gave a soft gasp and Hank could hear the creaky sound of a public restroom door, glad he'd had the good sense to get them out of view. "I understand." A paper shopping bag crinkling, Cole's protests quickly shushed.

"When you get home, I want you cleaning the garage, young man, do you hear me?" With the adjustments Connor had made, the garage was the only room in the house with no windows, they'd be out of sight. He didn't think it would be that bad, but he wanted his boys safe.

Hank gentled his voice a little. "Look, Cole, I know some of the other boys might give you a hard time, but you make sure you get home. No matter how big and scary they are, you do what it takes to  _ get home _ , understand?"

"I understand, Hank," A hard swallow. "I love you."

"I love you too," He'd waited too long, and now there was a chance he'd never be able to say them to Connor's face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who was deeply suspicious of the peace and quiet and sweetness wins a cookie!
> 
> (Everyone else gets one too of course!)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Cole get stopped on the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Aden and Dana for beta!!
> 
> This is the home stretch, y'all. After this just one more chapter and the journey is done! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading along this far! (Or reading once it's all posted, I feel you!

When Cole handed him the phone, Connor had gone through a number of possible reasons, settling on Hank wanting to speak to them both, so Cole's phone was the more logical option. 

What he hadn't expected was the fear in Hank's voice. Veiled comments, a father barking at a disobedient son, but Connor got the gist. Something was going on, and Connor had to hide what he was. Dodge probably police, maybe military, and get Cole home and them both out of sight.

"Connor what's going on?" Cole demanded when Connor finally hung up. He looked scared, having heard his father's yelling and Connor's fear.

Thankfully, they'd been in this bathroom earlier in the day, and Connor knew it to be unmonitored. It was one reason he'd dragged them in here as soon as he could.

Tucking the phone into his jeans, Connor dropped to one knee. "Cole, I need you to trust me, okay?" he shrugged off his glowing armband jacket, his pump pounding, never having done so outside of Hank's house before.

"Of course. Something bad's going on, isn't it?" Cole's hand reached to touch Connor's red LED. 

"I don't know what exactly, but your father is scared, and I have to get you home." Connor yanked the tags off the hat Cole had so proudly picked out for his father. He took out the scarf and stuffed the jacket into the now empty bag. "Stay by the door." He'd locked it but it never hurt to have a guard. 

Connor stood easily on one of the toilets and put the bag with the jacket up into the ceiling, knowing if an android jacket were found in the garbage or one of the stalls, there would be a relentless search. In a perverse way, his origins were coming in handy for once. Without a jacket his clothes looked a bit chilly, but the hat and scarf should improve that.  It helped that some humans were just Like That, especially in colder climes. Connor tapped his LED to turn down his cold sensitivity, then pulled the hat back into place

He checked his appearance, and Cole came over, giving a nod of approval. "If anything happens, Cole, play along with what I say, alright?"

"Okay." Cole threw his arms around Connor and Connor held him for a long moment. "I'm glad Daddy knows," he said, and Connor took a breath. They had so much to talk about later.

If they made it to later.

When they emerged, the scene wasn't a chaotic one, but Connor could see the makings of it. A strange kind of moving stillness as some people continued their day unawares, but others began to process that something was different. A few irritated shouts, androids walking away from their owners.

Cole's hand had his in a death grip.

Prey runs, Connor recalled from a documentary, and his own training. Hurrying, a little rushing, they were acceptable, but running would draw more attention than they could handle.

He squeezed Cole's hand and they began to walk. Not quite a stroll, but not any sort of extreme urgency. When a newly deviant android strode passed him, Connor just gave him the irritated look of a mildly inconvenienced human.

They made it out of the mall but they weren't safe yet. They couldn't take a cab, it would show Connor for an android right away, and Cole wasn't old enough.

He turned up his hearing and he heard heavy vehicles approaching. Not shipping, police, maybe. Military. Soldiers.

Words on the wind, 'roundup', 'deviants', 'orders to shoot.' His pump was going crazy and Connor thought it might just pound right out of his chest.

They managed to duck and dodge, slipping through checkpoints before they were fully set up. Thankfully, Cole's coloring was similar enough to Connor's that it didn't raise eyebrows.

Finally their luck ran out.

"You there, stop." 

A cold, sharp voice sent shivers through Connor but he stopped, giving Cole's hand a squeeze. "Yes?" The bored but token obedience of a fully legal citizen, nothing more, nothing less. He felt his LED burning into his skin even though he knew it wasn't.

"Can I see some ID?"

A distant pop, then a crackle. Gunfire. Humans wouldn't have heard it. "Is this really necessary, officer?" he asked, reluctantly dropping Cole's hand to begin a show of patting himself down. Good citizens didn't usually  _ need _ to present paperwork, they didn't always have it right on hand.

Another crackle, closer. Some humans could hear it, and Connor let his head snap to the direction it came from. "What was that?"

"None of your concern. Do you have ID?" The man didn't move his gun an inch but nevertheless projected the impression that he'd hefted it.

"Daaaad!" When Cole's whine reached Connor's ears, he thought that Hank was nearby. Then a sharp pull at his sleeve. "Daaad!" Cole's legs were bent slightly, thighs pressed together and a look of distress on his face. "Daaad, I gotta gooooo." Bless Hank and bless his clever son.

"Excuse me," Connor said, his voice tired with exasperation as he turned. He could lift Cole easily, but a human couldn't. He crouched, then hefted Cole up with an oof. "Gettin big, kiddo," he graced Cole with a warm smile. Cole kept bouncing and wiggling, his arms locked tight around Connor's neck. He leaned towards the man with the gun as if it wasn't even there. "He has a small bladder, and a shy one. I was trying to get him home before it got embarrassing." He tried to keep his voice down, one hand moving to cover Cole's ear, tucking his head down as if trying not to embarrass him. "You don't want the poor kid to ... you know," he made a slight face and gestured vaguely at the crotch area of himself and the soldier. "Not in public," he turned and gave Cole what he hoped was a parentally assuring nuzzle.  The way Connor had turned had his own body entirely between the soldier and Cole.

The guy gave him a skeptical look, and Connor worried he'd have to resort to even more extreme measures. Then another crackle of gunfire, closer and Cole whimpered in genuine fear, trying to press even closer to Connor. "You obviously have more important things to worry about than harassing honest citizens." Connor put all the haughty he could into his voice. 

The soldier huffed, studied them another moment before snapping his head. "Get out of here," he growled.

They had a few more brushes but it was clear that actual androids were the problem, not scared humans. Cole was soon sobbing in his arms and only the fact that Connor  _ was _ an android allowed him to carry an eleven year old boy the several miles walk it took to get home, especially at the speeds Connor attained when unwatched.

Turning on his passive systems only to avoid detection, Connor began to get a sense of what happened. An android was somehow converting and gathering deviants in massive numbers, and had started at the very mall they had been in. Connor had been right in the thick of it but hadn't felt anything.

Because he already had what they were trying to give.

When they reached their street, it was eerily calm but Connor didn't dare drop the act yet.

Only once they were inside did he set Cole down. "There's pliers in the kitchen," Connor said. Cole nodded and ran to get them. Connor was lowering all the blinds, just in case, cutting the inside of the house off from view. He kept his hat on.

Cole returned with the pliers and Connor snagged Sumo's collar and ushered them both into the garage, closing and locking the door. Only then did he dare take his hat off. "Might want to look away," he suggested.

Cole wrapped himself around Sumo’s head, as if protecting them both. Connor hissed in pain as he closed the tip of the pliers around the LED and pulled it out. Before his skin slid to cover it, he realized the LED had left a sizable dent.

He recalled Hank, hearing his voice clear as day. 'I need that like I need a hole in the head,' referring to some frivolous rich man's toy on TV.

The memory, the stress, the fear, the relief of being home, all pushed out of Connor in an almost hysterical laugh. He sank to the floor but by the time his ass reached the cold concrete, it had become tears.

Cole, not fully understanding what was going on, only knowing that Connor was here and they were safe but his father wasn't, crawled into Connor's lap and cried with them.

Only knowing one of his humans and the strange not-right-smelling-but-nice other thing were here, and the human was in distress, Sumo just flopped against them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked Cole's little hero moment!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ends the same way it starts: With family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Aden and Dana for beta!
> 
> And thanks once again for everyone who's been reading along, and everyone who waited until it was all done! Your comments and kudos (and even just hit counts for you extra shy folks!) are an author's bread and butter!

Hank could see things getting tense, a low conversation between Reed and the Connor clone, Nines. Surreptitious glances at the FBI puke, Perkins. Then the android standing, fingers drifting over Reed's evidence ID access badge that vanished when his hand moved away.

He'd never been close to Reed, but he respected the guy. When Hank saw that gleam in Reed's eye, fist curling and arm tense as Reed approached Perkins, Hank stepped in, a hand to his shoulder to stop him. "Go watch your partner's back, I'll take care of this asshole," Hank growled under his breath, cocking his head back at Perkins.

Reed studied him a moment, then nodded. Without a word, he turned and strode after the android.

"Hey, Perky! I gotta fuckin' question for ya!"

Gavin could have gone toe to toe with Perkins, and distracted him long enough, probably. But it would have cost him his badge, and Reed had to have known that. Hank's seniority and rank would shield him a little. The fact that he was also nearly a foot taller and more massive than Perkins meant he had a much better chance of going more than one round with the fucker.

Besides, Hank recalled the fear in Connor's voice, the fear in his own heart, not just for Connor but for all of them. The two girls at Eden that Nines had let go, the ones who ran or fought back because they were being hurt and couldn't take it anymore. And the ones- the ones like Connor. Who deviated quietly, privately, out of love. Millions and millions of androids, he doubted Connor was the only one like that. Hank had a score to settle with the obnoxious fucker.

Hank thought of all that as he strode across the bullpen. The man had only enough time to register the rage on Hank's face before the blow landed. Perkin's head snapped back and he staggered, flopping against the wall before sliding down, clutching his bleeding nose.

The other reason Hank had been willing to take the hit, was because he knew it would get him sent home, and he had to make sure his boys were okay.

"Fuck all this!" he growled as Chris Miller tried to gently lead him away. 

He pulled away with a growl and strode out to the parking garage, masking his fear with anger.

On his way home, he could see shit going down, military presence. Had to pass through three roadblocks. At least they had the grace to be fucking embarrassed when they saw his rank. One exceptionally nervous, no doubt newly minted soldier had actually fucking saluted. 

The radio didn't make him feel any fucking better so he turned it off. Finally he pulled into the driveaway, wanting to crawl right through the garage door. Instead he kept up the act of anger, hollering for Cole as he unlocked the front door.

Cole came running, throwing himself into Hank's arms and he scooped his son up. Sumo lumbered after. "Con? Con, come on out." He was already carrying Cole towards the garage.

Connor emerged and it took a moment to register what was different. "Didn't know you could take it off." Hank brushed his thumb over where his LED used to sit.

"He did it with your pliers, Daddy," Cole said, sounding much younger than his eleven years.

They wound up on the couch, Connor tucked into his side, Cole curled up in both their laps, suddenly much younger than his 11 years. The last time Hank watched the news for so long, it had been about New York City and airplanes.

Uprising. Androids being rounded up, taken to camps. Connor and Hank both had reached for Cole then, wanting to cover him, to shield him from it, even if it was too late.

He'd let them, holding Connor's arm tight to his chest while pressed to his father's, Hank's broad hand between his face and the TV.

Markus, the one who'd sent out the demand video. Others with him, standing brave even when bullets flew. State of emergency.

Then an army. White and grey uniforms, an endless stream of them, and at the front, in a white and black jacket, high collar open and flapping in the night wind-

"Connor look! He looks like you!!"

Finally it was over. Androids were people.

It wouldn't be that simple, of course, it never was. But laws were being drawn up and pulled down.

The following day found Hank waking to a knock at the door. He saw Connor trying to stand, but Cole weighed him down. "I'll go," Hank assured him.

They had all fallen asleep on Hank's bed, Cole having been very happy to learn he'd gotten his birthday wish.  Hank in turn had heard about how Cole had saved the day.

Still in the clothes from yesterday and not caring, Hank only stopped long enough to check his weapon, not entirely happy at the hour. Add to that, the only two people he trusted were asleep in the other room. When a look through the peephole showed Gavin Reed he raised an eyebrow and opened the door, tucking his gun away.

"Wanted to say thanks," Gavin said as Hank stepped out onto the front porch. "I was ready to- I know what it would have done to my career. So I appreciate it." Gavin looked over his shoulder where the RK900 was leaning against this car, looking a lot more casual than when he'd arrived at the DPD. His black and white high collar jacket was gone, replaced by a brown leather one Hank recognized as belonging to Gavin.

"Glad I could help. Just wanted to do what was right."

"Something else, uhm. You own an android, right? RK800 model?"

"I don't  **_own_ ** anybody, Reed," Hank growled.

Gavin held his hands up. "Sorry! Sorry, didn't mean it like that. Just- Nines was going through some CyberLife records. There was a similar model put out, a few years ago in Chicago. Just one of 'em, actually. Program got scrapped, no one wanted to work with him. Paper trail goes a little fuzzy after he got donated to some shitty school, but it looks like he got sold into Detroit and bounced around a lot, finally wound up at some shady second hand place. CyberLife wasn't happy but he was just one so they let it go."

"Got a point?" He asked, knowing he was talking about Connor but not knowing why.

"Nines is ... He's a prototype, too. With CyberLife gone, there won't be any more like him. Doesn't know if he'll be welcome at Jericho, considering what he used to do, why he was made. And he- He's alone, Hank. He just, if you've got him, if he's here, Nines would like to-"

Hank nodded, eyeing the other android again. The way he met Hank's gaze, then looked down and away reminded him of Connor. "I get it. Family, right?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Hank reached back and pushed the door open. "Wait here." He stepped inside and closed it. "Connor, baby," he called, smiling when Connor came out of the bedroom, carrying a sleepy Cole piggyback. "Your brother wants to meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the road. Might do more in this universe, might not. We'll see what happens! 
> 
> (Yes, Dana, I know, you want me to do the Gavin/Nines side of things, I know!)
> 
> Thank you all again so much for reading, it's been a wonderful journey for me, and I hope for you too as well!


End file.
